The Unavoidable Regression into Love
by tiltingaxis
Summary: Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story has honestly been on my mind for months now, and although this isn't necessarily the way I planned to narrate it, I feel like no other ideas will move forward if I don't let it out.**

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><p>He's late.<p>

He should have known better than to agree to a bowling tournament on a school night. But it was bowling, and he hasn't done that in almost six months. It showed too, if those two spares were anything to go by. Of course bowling led to a late nightcap and Nate may possibly be the best friend he's got around here, but carrying his drunk body five miles back to his apartment was _not_ his idea of a fun night. He guesses he'll have to settle for the satisfaction of the thought that Lydia will probably be giving the guy an earful this morning and that a classroom full of seven year olds with percussions is waiting for him.

It doesn't change the fact that he's still late. He groans at the thought of losing the bet he's got going on with the kids. Damn Nate for messing with his winning streak. He throws his tie clumsily into his briefcase, noting to put it on later and chugs down the day old coffee, grimacing at the grimy taste. Damn Nate for wasting his time last night and making him forget to clean out the coffee maker. His eye catches the clock on the wall and he makes a beeline for the front door, juggling his briefcase, his mug of cold coffee and his keys at the same time. He locks the door and turns.

He runs straight into a warm body and watches in dismay as the mug falls from his hand.

"Shit! I'm so sorry. I didn't see you. Are you okay?"

He's too busy looking at the stain that's spreading it's way on the white fabric to notice the way the person freezes almost completely.

"I'm just- I'm really late, so I'll just give you my number and I'll totally pay for the dry cleaning or whatever-"

"Finn."

He freezes, the familiar sound of her voice and the way his name lilts of her tongue catching him off guard.

"Finn," she says again, and it pulls him out of the sudden vacuum he was in as he slowly moves his gaze upward.

"Rachel."

Xxx

He's beyond super late when he gets to class, and he barely bats an eyelash when the kids hound him for 45 minutes of freestyling. He doesn't really have the mental capacity for teaching this morning anyway.

Toby Maguire is doing a move that could potentially break his neck while his bestfriend Michael beats away on the drums and all he can think about is of the woman sitting in his apartment at this very moment, potentially standing stock still in the middle of his tiny living room, because once it was established that she's here to stay, he's been moving on autopilot, telling her where the set of spare keys are and saying that he needed to leave, and proceeding to do just that so very quickly.

He's not particularly sure what he's supposed to do with the knowledge that Rachel Berry is now more than 2000 miles away from New York City where she's supposed to be, and is instead holed up in his tiny apartment all the way in San Diego. The first question that he should probably ask is what the hell is she doing here? Although, he gets the feeling that the question would only lead to answers he's still not quite prepared to know. The second is how the hell did she get here? He won't bother with the logistics of how she knew where to find him because Kurt is his brother and Kurt can mind his own business about as well as Finn can dance.

In fact, really, Kurt's inability to mind his own damn business was what got them into this whole... _whatever_ it's supposed to be in the first place.

He doesn't really like to think about it, because really, avoidance is what Finn Hudson does best. He just never figured that Rachel Berry would be just as good at it when she wants to be.

Until today anyway.

Xxx

_Kurt calls him at seven in the morning. On a freaking Saturday. He does __**not**__ appreciate this._

"_What?" he snaps, still bleary-eyed from being so rudely awakened. There's a reason why he usually keeps his phone on silent mode._

"_The bad news," Kurt tells him, "Is that Rachel was hospitalized."_

"_Wait. __**What**__? Is she-"_

"_The good news, is that all she got out of that really bad fall was a broken ankle."_

"_What fall?"_

"_The __**great**__ news," his brother finishes, with a little too much enthusiasm, "Is that she'll be going back to Lima for the rest of her recovery!"_

"_Dude. Repeat. What fall?"_

_Kurt sighs on the other line, and he can practically see his brother rolling his eyes, but whatever. You just don't call someone up at seven in the morning and expect his brain to be fully functioning._

"_As you know, she's been preparing for her Broadway debut for months now."_

"_Has she?"_

"_Don't pretend like you don't know exactly what's going on with her life," Kurt answers in a bored voice. He says nothing to that, gritting his teeth in response._

"_Whatever. So?"_

"_It was the last rehearsal, and she, according to her words, was about to make her biggest twirl yet, because even though she has all of ten lines and one verse of a chorus, she was determined to make her role a memorable one, when she miscalculated and fell off the stage."_

"_She fell __**off**__ the stage?"_

"_That's what I said. And unfortunately for her, her ankle was what broke the fall. And because she has been so miserable here, I figured that a little fresh air from good ole' Lima could do her some good."_

_He knows Kurt's tone when he's actually happy, and he knows Kurt's tone when he's pretending to be cheerful to get something out of it. This tone does not indicate actual happiness._

"_Let me guess," Finn says dryly. "This great news is only great for you."_

_There's a beat of silence before Kurt speaks again._

"_She's driving me __**crazy**__," he whispers dramatically. Finn rolls his eyes. "I'm serious Finn. She's alternating between crying her eyes out at her lost chance, and being the stubborn diva that she is, and demanding that I let her walk around the streets of New York on that bad ankle. And it's not like I won't appreciate the momentary reprieve that would entail, but we both know that it's only going to prolong her recovery, and believe you me, __**no**__**one**__ wants that."_

"_So you're shipping her back here so you won't have to deal with all that crazy?"_

"_Must you make me sound so mean? But... yes."_

"_And you're telling me this why?"_

"_While I may not want to handle her current state, I still feel for the poor girl. I mean, she needs all the help she can get."_

"_I don't think she'd want my help," Finn answers dryly, sitting up from his bed to lean against the wall._

"_Of course she does."_

"_Maybe you didn't get the memo, but the last time I saw her, she basically told me she didn't want to have anything to do with me."_

"_Well can you blame her? You were kind of acting like an ass, insulting her then boyfriend and essentially telling her that she needs to fix her taste in men."_

"_No," he answers, getting riled up all over again. "An ass is a dude who tells a guy he's just met for all of ten minutes what a great lay his girlfriend is since she's 'gotten her badass tattoo'. Seriously Kurt, what the hell was she thinking even going on __**one**__ date with that idiot? I mean, really?"_

"_Well you didn't exactly help matters, did you? You know Rachel. When you tell her she can't have something, it only makes her want it more. She was about to dump Ryan on his cute but vacant behind if you hadn't provoked her and made __**that**__ train wreck last for another month."_

"_How the hell is that my fault?" he demands, annoyed._

"_Look," Kurt starts in a placating manner. "I'm just saying that __**maybe**__ your unresolved feelings for Rachel-"_

"_I don't have any unresolved feelings for Rachel. We've covered __**that**__ years ago."_

"_Mmhmm. Fine, maybe your 'approach' then, wasn't the best one."_

"_So you're telling me that I shouldn't have called her out for dating a grade A douchebag?"_

"_Maybe not the way you did it. I mean c'mon Finn. We were at a club. And he was __**right**__ there."_

"_Don't remind me," he mutters, remembering that dickhead's face going back and forth between Finn and Rachel as their 'conversation' grew more and more heated until she had stormed out and dragged his stupid ass along._

"_Look. This conversation is getting us nowhere," Kurt answers impatiently. "The point is, Rachel's leaving for Lima this weekend and I'm not sure how long she'll be staying, but I figured it'd help if she had some support, you know? Other than her parents, because __**God**__, they've been blowing up our land line and honestly, they are __**not**__ helping her tone down her theatrics."_

_Finn sighs, leaning his head back too far and accidentally banging it against the wall._

"_I don't know Kurt. I mean, we haven't spoken in like, months-"_

"_Six, to be exact."_

"_How did-"_

"_How do I know? Only because Rachel has been on a PMS streak for the last __**six**__ months. And I am telling you right now Finn Hudson, you add a broken ankle in the picture, and you are getting the most __**insufferable**__, __**stiflingly**__ neurotic-"_

"_The __**point**__ is, I don't know if seeing each other would the best thing right now."_

_Kurt sighs, and he knows it's the one that means he's getting tired of whoever's speaking, which happens to be Finn._

"_Finn, I swear to __**God**__, I will literally __**lose**__ my mind. I love the girl. I love her to death, but I __**cannot**__ live with her when she's like this. You know how impatient I am. We are both just too self absorbed for our egos to fit in the same apartment-"_

_He lets his mind wander, ignoring Kurt's bitch out in the background as he tries to analyze his feelings. He's pretty sure he's still pissed at her because really, how is it __**his**__ fault that he cares for her (as a __**friend**__) enough to not want her to settle for such a fucking tool? And like, she dumped the dude anyway, and seriously, she actually held it out for another month __**just**__ to spite him. _

_She's crazy stubborn, she's a total drama queen and he just __**knows**__ that she's going to drive him completely off the __**fucking**__ wall in like, ten minutes tops. _

_Okay fine, he might have been worried when Kurt sprung the news on him, but a broken ankle really isn't even that bad, and yeah, he can probably guess how much this is killing her 'Broadway soul', but he's still holding out for an apology here. So he's been holding out for six months, he's pretty sure he's being reasonable about this. Who cares if she thinks __**he's**__ the one who needs to apologize? She's obviously wrong-_

"_Finn! Are you even listening to me at __**all**__?"_

"_No."_

"_**Typical**__."_

"_Did she even tell you that she wants to see me?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Kurt."_

"_Fine, she hasn't. But I know she does."_

"_That's not the same thing."_

"_Finn!" Kurt whines, annoyed. "You know you're going to do it anyway. It's like an affliction with both of you."_

_Huh. Affliction. That sounds about right._

"_Has it __**really**__ been six months?" he asks, resigning to the fact that he's just stalling by now._

"_And seven days."_

"_Why am I doing this?"_

"_Because it's Rachel. Because she's our girl."_

"_She's not __**my**__ girl anymore, remember?"_

"_Please," Kurt snorts. "She's always your girl."_

Xxx

The bell rings and he realizes that the noise in his class has pretty much reached detention levels by now. Putting two fingers up to his mouth, he whistles loud enough to quiet them down. Finn raises an eyebrow, pointing to the clock on the wall and smiles ruefully as they leave the room at lightning speed for lunch.

He realizes that there's nothing at home save for half a bag of ground coffee and a carton of milk. Real milk. He wonders if she knows that there's a vegan deli a few blocks away from his house. He ignores his knee jerk reaction to call her and heads out to the cafeteria instead.

Really, it's ridiculously ironic to realize that this year's (_has_ it been a year?) worth of separation stemmed from a reconciliation.

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><p><strong>Feedback is greatly appreciated.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: For the record, the present occurs about a year after what was written in Italics. And the story of what exactly happened between them will be told as flashbacks through those italicized scenes. Sorry for the confusion!**

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><p>He comes home with takeout, opting for some sort of vegan pizza because it was just about the only thing that looked edible to him. He ignores the way his heart seems to be pumping on speed the closer he gets to home, telling himself to act like a grown ass man. He opens his door to find his apartment empty.<p>

"Rachel?" he calls out, the name still sounding slightly awkward rolling off his tongue. He's greeted with silence, and for a moment his heart stops at the idea of her disappearing just as suddenly as she had appeared. He tries not to rush to all the closed doors, but he does, silently looking for any sign of her presence. He finally hears the shower running and relaxes, rolling his eyes at his own dramatics as he makes his way to the kitchen. His eye catches her luggage, still placed next to the door like it was when he left and shakes his head.

He stops short when he sees the oven. There's something cooking in there, something that doesn't look like it could have easily been popped into the microwave. He didn't even know that the oven was still _working_. Placing the box of pizza on the small table near the wall, he tentatively opens his fridge to find like, stuff in there. There are things that come in actual food groups and he's pretty sure his refrigerator is like, in shock right now.

"_Finn_!" He starts, hitting his head against the fridge door as he straightens up. Cursing under his breath, he finds her looking at him in surprise, like she doesn't know what he's doing here even though really, this is his apartment and _she's_ the one who decided to put him on a tailspin by showing up out of nowhere.

"Hi," he says stupidly, still unaccustomed to find Rachel Berry anywhere within the vicinity of his house, or anywhere in San Diego for that matter. She clutches the towel tighter to her chest and that's when he realized that it's _all_ she's currently wearing and looks away, trying to ignore the blush that's making its way all over her body.

"I- I'm sorry," she stammers, hurrying over to her luggage and blindly pulling out the contents. "I didn't know you'd be home this early, or I would have-"

"Don't worry about it," he mutters gruffly. She gives him a small nod and makes a beeline back towards the toilet, closing the door softly behind her.

He realizes that he's been holding his breath and lets it out as he sags against the fridge, banging his head softly against the door.

He gets the feeling that this just might be the death of him.

Xxx

_He taps his foot impatiently against the linoleum as he waits for her to walk through those doors. He's not going to lie, for as much as he's still undeniably annoyed with her, there's still that perpetual excitement that comes with not seeing each other for so long, and honestly, this has been the longest they've been apart ever since college._

_He knows that Rachel is stubborn, and that he definitely gives her a run for her money occasionally, but in the back of his mind he's coming to the realization of how dumb their fight is, kind of. _

_Because he's been in this position countless of times, waiting for her at the airport, or the bus station when she's relatively broke, and even driving all the way down to Cincinnati once when she's just watched one too many episodes of Anne of Green Gables and decided that she felt 'adventurous'. It's the same feeling he gets when he's up in the air, or huddled in a crappy seat on the bus, twenty minutes away from the big lights of New York City and Rachel Berry, that small, excited, sixteen year old feeling that never seems to go away whenever she's around._

_It's kind of funny how life works, because never in a million years would he have thought that he'd be the kind of guy jumping on an airplane every few months to visit his bestfriend (and his brother) for a few days and then jump back on a plane home. But him and Rachel, well they're complicated like that, and even though sometimes it kills him that they can't just have a simple label on what exactly they are, he's pretty content with how things are, for the most part. Things can be really easy, or they can be really hard, depending on which part of their relationship he focuses on, and the term 'bestfriend' seems to let them get away with the most, so he tries not to question it._

_He finally sees her, and it's a little amusing to watch the disgruntled look on her face as she tries to manoeuvre herself on her crutches and carry that luggage over her shoulder at the same time. He hurries over to her, knowing that she hasn't noticed him yet in her attempt to stay upright._

"_Is chivalry dead?" he jokes in mock outrage once he reaches her, and she looks up in surprise. He sees that familiar warmth lighting her eyes when she sees him, and smiles back. It doesn't last long though, and almost immediately her face contorts into a frown._

"_What are __**you**__ doing here?"_

_He stifles a groan. Looks like it's going to be the hard way this time around._

Xxx

"I made vegan lasagne," she tells him brightly as she places the dish down on the table. "I put in a lot of mushrooms and green peppers, because I know you love those, and I used that vegan cheese you like. Thank God they sell it down by the store I went to. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm intruding, it's just that I was looking for something to eat and this place just lacks, well, food."

"It's fine," he tells her as she sits on the other end of the table. He notes the way she's twirling the wet strands of her hair, and he knows she's nervous. "Thanks," he tells her, smiling to assure her, although he doesn't even know why he feels like he should. She relaxes visibly, and begins to cut a piece for him, and there's that awkward silence again.

"I bought pizza," he tells her unnecessarily because the box is right in front of them.

"I know," she says apologetically. "I um- I wanted to call you first, but I realize that I don't have your number."

Oh. Right. He changed that.

"I'll give it to you."

"Okay."

"We'll just- we'll pop it into the oven for tomorrow."

"Sure."

She's looking at him expectantly, so he takes a bite out of the lasagne and nods his head.

"It's good."

"Great," she tells him, grinning just a little too much. He hates it that he knows her well enough to know that, because he shouldn't feel this stupid need to make her feel comfortable anyway.

Xxx

He washes the dishes while she wipes down the table, and there's another awkward moment when he turns to put the plates in the dryer and she turns with the dirty kitchen towel and they almost collide.

"Sorry," they say simultaneously, both moving forwards and backwards at the same time, making it impossible for either of them to actually _move_.

"You go first," he finally says, standing still while she moves past him. She leaves the kitchen and he stifles another sigh.

Xxx

"You can have the bed," he tells her as he leaves his room, armed with a pillow and a blanket, his school bag slung over his shoulder. He spent half an hour pushing everything into the bottom half of his closet, dumping all his school materials into his bag and blindly grabbing a shirt and a pair of pants for tomorrow.

"Oh it's not necessary. I'm fine with the couch-"

"Rachel, don't be stupid. I'm not letting you sleep on the couch."

"But-"

"Come on," he continues, dropping his things and picking up her luggage off his floor as he walks briskly into the bedroom. He drops it by his bed. He turns to find her leaning against the door, frowning.

"Well," he says, grabbing the back of his neck. "Goodnight."

It's freaking nine in the evening. Who even sleeps at this hour?

"Goodnight," she tells him softly.

He leaves, closing the door behind him, and stands in front of it, wondering how long they can keep this up, because it's kind of driving him crazy. He hears a loud thud against the door and frowns.

"Rachel? Are you okay?"

He thinks he hears a gasp before she replies hastily that she's fine.

The apartment is quiet as he settles his long body on the couch, and it hits him that he doesn't even know how long she's staying.

Xxx

He wakes up super early the next day and leaves before it's even light out.

He leaves her a note to tell her that he'll be back late, and writes his number down, in case of an emergency.

He ends the letter with _make yourself at home_, and stares at the words for about five minutes before he decides to just leave it there.

He gets to school an hour early and spends the whole time in his car, arranging the kids' mash-up for the school concert.

Xxx

"Take out your instruments," he says as he drops a stack of papers on Emily's desk and asks her to pass it back.

The whole class whines when they realize that it's a pop quiz, and he ignores them like the pro that he is, calling out names at random to play out the notes on the paper. He loses his focus when he checks his phone for the tenth time. You know, in case of emergencies.

"Uh, Mr. H?"

His head snaps up to find Todd looking at him oddly.

"Yeah?"

"I've been playing for like a whole page now so..."

"Right, right. Good work," he answers quickly as he signals for him to sit down and points at Kimberley to start.

_Focus Hudson_, he tells himself, annoyed.

Xxx

He bums around at Nate and Lydia's after work, staying over to have dinner there, rocking out with Liam on Rock Band.

He doesn't leave until it's almost eleven and when he gets home, she's in her room.

He guesses she's doing okay without him here in San Diego.

He almost missed his shirt and pants laid out on the coffee table.

Xxx

He crashes Nate's for dinner for the next two days, and swiftly ignores the dude's grumbles that he's eating them out of their home as Lydia flicks her husband on the forehead.

xxx

The next day, she sends him a text to ask him if he'll be home for dinner.

He waits an hour before he replies.

_No. Teacher's meeting._

Liam kills him on some stupid pop song that night, and he's oddly proud of the kid's skills. He's had a hand in it after all.

Xxx

"What's going on?" Lydia asks once she's put her kid to bed and he's still hanging out on their living room couch. Nate left to go on a beer run, and he's staring stupidly at some lame ass reality show, his mind about five miles away.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been spending a fairly suspicious amount of free time here these past few days. You don't love us _that_ much."

"I'm hurt that you'd think that," he answers, faking a wounded expression.

"Cut the crap Hudson. What happened?"

"Nothing, I just-"

"You're just avoiding something," she finishes dryly.

"You know me too well," he mutters, closing his eyes. She grins, slapping him on the leg as she sits next to him.

"Spill mister," she orders, poking him in the chest.

"It's Rachel," he says after a pause.

"Ah."

"She's here."

"What? Like in your head?"

He looks down at her, confused. She shrugs her shoulders, looking at him like it's entirely plausible for him to go off the deep end start conjuring people up out of thin air.

"What? _No_ I mean she's here. She's- she's kind of staying with me."

She leans back to look at him. If she's surprised, she's hiding it pretty well.

"Well it's about time she caught up with you," she finally says. "Are you telling me that the woman has been living in your apartment this entire week and you left her there alone? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I gave her my number," he says defensively. "I told her to call if there are any emergencies and she hasn't, so-"

He sighs at the incredulous look on Lydia's face, her blue eyes narrowing as she stares at him.

"Look, I don't even know why she's here in the first place."

"It couldn't possibly have anything to do with you," she answers sarcastically. He ignores that, choosing to turn his attention back to the screen. He feels her shift next to him, placing her head on his shoulder as she pats his arm in what he assumes is supposed to be a comforting manner.

"Look, I know it's hard for you," she starts slowly. "You're hurt and she didn't- well, she ran. But you, Finn Hudson, are a grown ass man, so stop acting like a man child and pouting like an eight year old on my couch and go and talk to her. I swear, you're worse than Liam sometimes."

Xxx

He turns the lock and pushes his door open to find the TV turned on to the home shopping channel. She's asleep on his couch and for a moment he contemplates heading straight to his room.

He doesn't though, opting instead to kneel next to her head.

It's been a year, and she looks exactly the same as she did the last time he saw her this way, her hair falling gently over face with her hand tucked under her chin. He remembers the comfort he felt in that moment, and he tries to hold on to that, trying not to remember the avalanche of hurt that had followed.

He tucks her stray hair behind her ear, and his finger burns a little as it touches her skin.

"Rachel," he calls softly, his hand now moving to cup her jaw of its own accord. "Rachel, wake up."

Her eyelids flutter, and suddenly there are those dark brown orbs he could get lost in, looking up at him in a sleep induced haze. She smiles warmly when she sees him, reaching out her hand to graze against his skin.

"Hi," she whispers, and it feels a lot like all the air has been sucked out of the room as her fingers trail down to the collar of his shirt to rest against his neck.

"Hi."

The word comes out a little shaky and it's like a wake up call for her as her eyes seem to widen and her hand falls away from him like the touch had burned her.

"Oh God," she says, distressed as she quickly sits up. "I'm so sorry Finn. I just- I fell asleep and- I thought I was dreaming- I didn't-"

She's having a mini freak out in front of him and he knows that it could go on for a while if he lets it. So he ignores the way his heart is still stuck in his throat and he tries not to wonder on what exactly she meant when she said she thought it was a dream as his hand shoots out to grab her wrist before she could get off the couch completely.

"Rachel," he says quietly and she finally stops her hysterical mumbling, her body frozen in a half stand as she looks at him.

"We need to talk."

Xxx

She's sitting on one end of the couch, and he's sitting on the other, and the tension is so stifling he could almost choke on it.

He's been saving these words forever it seemed, and he doesn't think he's really ready to let them out yet. But he's a grown ass man, like Lydia said, and it's time to man the fuck up.

"What are you doing here?"

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><p><strong>As usual, feedback makes an author's day =)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

_He watches her fidgeting from the corner of his eye, one eye on the open road before them. She's slumped against the seat of his truck, pouting like she's still six years old and being so uncharacteristically silent, that he finds it deafening. He doesn't mention the pink streaks in her hair, or the fact that it's almost five inches shorter than it used to be. He hits a pothole because he wasn't looking and she bounces in her seat, wincing before turning to shoot him a dirty glare._

_Apparently he's still in for the silent treatment. It's a surprise to him, because he honestly never knew that she could actually keep her mouth shut for this long._

"_Sorry," he mumbles, because maybe he really did hurt her ankle, and that's not going to help things between them at all, or make anything any easier, which is all that he wants at the moment._

"_You can stop looking at me," she tells him bluntly, and he wants to roll his eyes at her arrogance, but he's still looking isn't he?_

"_I'm not."_

"_I know I look stupid, okay? You don't have to rub it in my face. It's bad enough that I can barely move."_

"_You look fine-"_

"_I can feel your eyes judging me Finn Hudson, and I don't appreciate it."_

"_Oh my 'eyes' are judging you huh?" he asks sarcastically, already feeling tired at the argument that's about to begin._

"_Yes. I like my hair this way, okay? The stylist said that it has an edge, and I happen to agree so-"_

"_I don't care about your hair."_

_This isn't necessarily all that true. It had... disarmed him when she took off the hat she was wearing in the truck. But only because, well, she had freaking pink streaks in her hair._

"_Then stop looking at it."_

"_I'm not."_

"_Fine."_

"_Fine."_

_She lets out a dramatically loud sigh as she tries her best to turn towards the window, and even though he knows that he's 26 and that it's childish, he just can't help himself._

"_I thought you said you look stupid."_

_She turns to him, her eyes flashing as he keeps a straight face, turning the steering wheel nonchalantly._

"_I thought you said you didn't care."_

"_I don't."_

"_Of course you don't," she answers sarcastically, turning away._

"_I don't give a rat's ass about your hair," he tells her, annoyed._

"_Well that's funny. You seem to care about everything else I do."_

"_If you mean that idiot with the mushroom hair, than yeah, I'm sorry for caring that you did an ass like him- Ow! Jesus Rachel, I'm driving!"_

"_I can't believe you just said that to me!" she yells, thwacking his arm repeatedly. _

"_You made me say it!" he yells back, leaning his body against the window because __**damn**__, Rachel Berry has got an arm. _

"_How did I possibly make you say it?" she demands, insulted._

"_By trying to pick a fight with me in the car because you don't know how else you're supposed to talk to me," he tells her nonchalantly, pulling one hand off the steering wheel to take a hold of the hand she has on his shoulder._

_She reels back to look at him as he turns and grins at her._

"_I'm just giving you what you want."_

"_You are just- the __**nerve**__-" she sputters incredulously. "That's ridiculous."_

"_Admit it," he answers, turning back to face the road. "You miss me."_

"_I don't, you ass!"_

"_Ah, she breaks out the curses. You __**really**__ miss me."_

"_I-"_

"_I bet you wake up in the middle of the night sometimes because you miss me so much," he continues gently, toning down his teasing tone. He feels her eyes on him and turns to look at her again, shrugging his shoulders as he quirks a smile._

"_Right?"_

"_I hate you," she mumbles, crossing her arms in a huff._

"_Why? Because you love me?" he shoots back as she pulls her hand away._

"_Because you're a jerk."_

"_Wow. You know what jerk means. That means-"_

"_Yeah, yeah that I miss you. __**Fine**__. I miss you, okay? Is that a crime that I miss you, huh? You want to hear me say it again? I miss you, I miss you, I __**miss**__ you. Okay?"_

_She leans back against her seat as she glares at him, her posture defensive as she catches her breath. She's looking at him as if she's daring him to answer, and he hides his amusement at the nonplussed look on her face. _

"_Okay," he answers nonchalantly. He turns to the left and the car is quiet as he continues to drive. He feels her moving restlessly next to him._

"_That's it?" she asks finally._

"_What?"_

"_Just okay?"_

"_Well, yeah- Ow! Rachel, stop hitting me!"_

"_Finn Hudson, you tell me you miss me, __**right**__ now- or I swear-"_

_He veers the truck to the side of the road, parking the vehicle as he turns to grab the hands that are currently inflicting tiny bruises on his shoulder. She fights him a little as she always does, and stops once she realizes that it's futile, as she always does._

"_Rachel," he says, grinning as he pulls her close, careful not to put any pressure on her injured leg. He rests his jaw on her shoulder and the familiar smell of her shampoo hits him as he feels her body relent and her arms snaking their away around his waist._

"_I miss you too."_

_She relaxes against him and he smiles, knowing that the argument is probably far from over, but the cold war definitely is._

"_I hate you," she mumbles against his shirt._

"_You love me."_

Xxx

He feels the back of his shoulders straining as he tries to keep his composure.

She's too quiet. She's been too quiet and un-Rachel ever since she got here five days ago, and it's throwing him off. Granted, any version of Rachel will throw him off these days, but this Rachel is unfamiliar and strange and it's messing with his balance, making him nervous.

"Why are you here Rachel?" he asks again and she stiffens even more, if it's at all possible. She looks so tiny balled up on the edge of his couch, her slight figure dwarfed by the oversized shirt she's wearing. It looks familiar and he doesn't really want to dwell on why.

"I-" she starts softly, looking away from him, looking at her feet, tucked out from under her. "I finished my run. On Broadway. I was on West Side Story, you know."

"I heard." It was the last thing he heard about her, in fact, the last random Rachel fact Kurt ever dropped on him before he told his brother to stop. She looks up at him in surprise and he looks back at her uncomfortably.

"Kurt told me you were Anita." She shrugs, smiling ruefully.

"Well it's no Maria-"

"It's big enough."

He sees her eyes light up at his words and for a second, he sees the Rachel Berry that he knew, radiating with fierce pride at his words. But she's gone in the blink of an eye, replaced once again with the fidgety woman sitting in front of him.

"Sorry I didn't get to see you. I was too busy-" _staying away_, his brain tells him, but he knows he's not supposed to say that. Not yet anyway. "Well, I was too busy. You know, grading papers and school concerts."

_Yeah, you're just a total rockstar_. His subconscious is rolling his eyes at him, and it's a little creepy how his subconscious feels so much like Kurt. She's nodding her head slowly at his words, and it strikes him how she's stalling for time. Isn't that usually his tactic? Isn't Rachel supposed to be the one barging in with no holds barred? Well, she did _barge_ into his life a week ago, he supposes that counts.

"I needed a break," she tells him, sounding way more confident than she actually looks and he thinks maybe she's thought about this before. He wonders if she's been thinking about this the last five days. "Like a small vacation."

"In San Diego? Here in La Jolla?"

"It's pretty here," she answers defensively. "There's the beach, and the Museum of Contemporary Art. And did you know that Gregory Peck lived here, and Anne Rice?"

She's looking at him in satisfaction and he hides a smile as she straightens her posture and silently dares him to argue.

"Did you like, read a flier or something?" he teases. She blushes scarlet at that and he snorts. "You did, didn't you? You probably bought one of those bogus star maps-"

She gasps like she's affronted but he sees the twinkle in her eye as she denies him fervently.

"I did no such thing Finn Hudson. You know very well that I don't condone such blatant acts of intrusion."

"Because when you're a star yourself, you don't want to find some crazy stalker streaking naked down your front lawn?" he jokes, remembering her words back in high school when they had found Jacob Ben Israel creeping through her trash. That dude was freaking creepy. She laughs, delighted that he remembers and the reality of their situation comes back and hits him over the head like a sledgehammer.

He sees her deflating as his frown falls back into place and just as swiftly as it had came, the comfort tapers out again.

"Finn," she starts, her words dying in her mouth as she looks at him helplessly.

"So how long is this mini vacation going to last?" he asks, ignoring the plea in her tone. She straightens up, keeping his gaze as she answers.

"Indefinitely. For as long as it takes."

"To do what?"

She looks at him, scrutinizing, almost like she's annoyed, and fine, so maybe he's playing games. But doesn't he deserve a real, drawn out, honest-to God answer at least? She nods like she understands what he wants, and maybe she does.

She always used to.

Except when what he wanted was her.

"To get us back."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know this is short and the story might be going unbearably slow, but bear with me please =). I might not be able to update all that often these days, because just finding the time to write is proving to be almost impossible.**

**That said, feedback makes an author's day =)**


	4. Chapter 4

He stares at her defiant posture, his mind reeling. He's not going to lie and say that this came out of left field, but he guesses that he's forgotten just how straightforward she can be, and how off-putting that is. He knows behind that defensive exterior probably lies every single insecurity she's ever come up with weighing against her. But she stands her ground as she stares at him, waiting for him to say something.

The frustration is borne out of that bewildered feeling of having his world spin off its axis all over again. The fact that it feels so familiar pisses him off, because she can't just do this. She can't just come and go whenever she feels like it, changing his world every time she blows through.

He's spent.

He's done his biggest gesture, he's gone out of his comfort zone, he's taken that risk, that giant leap of faith or window of opportunity or whatever it is that they call it, and he fell flat on the floor and she can't do this to him anymore.

They can't do this to each other anymore.

"Which version of us are you talking about Rachel?" he asks tiredly. Her gaze breaks and suddenly she's looking down at the floor, her shoulders shaking slightly as she shakes her head.

"Finn-"

"I can't remember Rach," he continues, ignoring her hesitant tone. He's caught between sarcasm and complete wonder and he doesn't really know which side is winning. "Which part of us do you want this time?"

She's quiet for the longest time, and he's holding his breath, too afraid to move and break the fragile silence. He wonders how she can look so small but be so imposing at the same time. But she's always had that funny effect on him, always had him trapped between wanting to wrap her up in his arms and wanting to run as far away from her as possible. He stands up from his couch just so he could breathe, and the movement startles her as she finally looks up, that familiar determination still evident in her eyes.

"All of it," she whispers, moving closer. "Everything."

He takes an involuntary step back and she freezes, the hurt clearly showing in her eyes.

There's a space in his mind he's reserved for Rachel Berry, somewhere in the back of his brain shelved between 'do-_not_-enter' and 'forget, forget, _forget'_. But the gates he's put up on his jumbled up feelings are starting to break, and he feels his heart pumping crazily against his chest as a wave of denied emotions start to break through.

"I already gave you that," he tells her with gritted teeth, his hands fisting the fabric of his pants. "You didn't want it, remember?"

"That's not fair," she bursts out passionately, looking up at him with wide eyes as she moves forward purposefully this time, jumping out of her seat to stand in front of him. He stays where he is. "That's _not_ fair. You- you practically ambushed me-"

"Of _course_ it's my fault-"

"I'm not _saying_ that. Finn, _please_. Just- just please let me explain."

He feels wary, and she's still looking at him beseechingly, and he's just too fucking terrified to even _think_ about what she might say.

"Maybe you're right," he tells her, his voice subdued. "Maybe I did ambush you. And maybe this is all my fault-"

"No. Finn _don't_-"

"No, no it's true," he cuts in, holding out a hand to stop her from coming closer. "And it hurt, and it _sucked_, but you know what? It took me a while, it took me a long while, but I don't regret it Rachel, even if it broke my heart, because pretending that I felt less than I did was killing me, pretending like we could go on with nothing more between us was _killing_ me."

She shakes her head profusely at his words, and that grip she's always had around his heart tightens at what he knows it might mean.

"So maybe it was all or nothing," he continues, ignoring her and that painful clench in his chest. "And it had always been all or nothing, and we were both just too damn scared to admit that, because- because we both knew it'd be nothing-"

"_No_. That's not true-"

"We can't go back to us Rach," he finishes softly, ignoring her and the way the burn at the back of his eyes is starting to hurt his head. "All that pushing and shoving and tugging- I- you hurt too much. We- we hurt too much."

"Finn- please listen-"

Her words falter when he finally faces her. He's smiling but he doubts there's even a speck of humor on his face.

"You should go home Rachel," he tells her softly as he steps closer. Her head reaches up to his chest as it always does and that random, almost trivial, constant fact fills him with a sort of ache that he thinks will never heal. She's crying, silent wet tears streaming down her face, clumping her lashes together. He reaches out almost subconsciously, his thumb running gently against the skin beneath her eye.

"Go back to where you belong."

Xxx

"_Hello?" he answers distractedly as he juggles his briefcase, car keys and the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder at the same time._

"_When your bestfriend comes all the way from New York City for a visit, you don't spend two whole days ignoring her," Rachel's grumpy voice tells him. He grins as he pulls the truck door open and rolls his eyes._

"_There's this thing called work Rach, and for normal, little people like me it's kind of an everyday thing."_

"_Admit it, you'd just rather hang out with musically gifted children than spend your days with me."_

"_And get away from all that misplaced anger? Never," he teases as he pulls out of the carpark. He looks around for his kids, knowing he'll catch some flack if any one of them sees Mr. Hudson talking on the phone while he's driving. _

"_I'm choosing to ignore that remark. Get me out of here. __**Please**__. Take me to a bar or Breadstix or even bowling, I don't care," she answers forlornly._

"_What's wrong?" he asks, slightly more worried than he probably should be from that dramatic tone._

"_My fathers are driving me crazy."_

"_Ah," he answers knowingly, laughing._

"_I'm serious Finn. My dad keeps standing behind me like he's waiting for me to fall over, and daddy's taking turns telling me that Broadway's waiting with bated breath for my return –__**hah**__!-, and asking about that someone special in my life."_

"_Who?" he asks, frowning._

"_That's what I said. Honestly, sometimes I think all he raised me up for was the hope that I'll produce his grandchild someday. He went on for quite a while about that woman he saw you with too."_

_The blaring honk startles him and he looks to the left just in time to see the old lady in her Ford Escape giving him the middle finger. He stares after the car as it speeds away a little blankly, because he's pretty sure someone that looked like his grandma just flipped him off._

"_Oh."_

"_Yes, and apparently she's very pretty, this Maria person."_

"_Hmm. She's the new teacher in McKinley. Will wanted me to show her around."_

"_So she's your girlfriend now?"_

"_It was one date, and are you jealous?"_

"_I just thought you'd tell me about it, your best friend."_

"_You weren't exactly talking to me," he points out. She's silent on the other end. "Rachel?"_

"_So there is something worth talking about?"_

"_What? No. I'm just saying that we weren't exactly 'best friends'-"_

"_I'm going crazy cooped up in this place. Take me out Finn. __**Please**__."_

Xxx

He walks aimlessly down the deserted street, his hands in his pocket and his mind fixed on the night he's tried so hard to forget.

Maybe she won't be there when he gets home.

Maybe she will.

He doesn't know which one will be worse.

Xxx

"_This isn't exactly my idea of a night out," she tells him wryly as she stumbles through the entrance of his apartment. His hand shoots out to hold her steady. He's trying not to hover, but it's hard when she's so tiny and those crutches are almost as big as her. He thinks he kinda gets why her dad follows her around everywhere because Rachel on crutches is about as graceless as Finn on a daily basis. It's the fourth time she's almost fallen on her face, and he's just about ready to throw her over his shoulder and just carry her around. _

_She's totally overdressed, in a silky black top and some fancy jeans, her pink-brown hair falling in waves over her face. He shrugs._

"_You can't exactly bowl on crutches babe. Besides, I've got enough beer to last us a whole night."_

_She looks a little surprised by the term of endearment but brushes it off, scowling at him._

"_What a line," she tells him sarcastically. He sticks out his tongue playfully._

"_I'm not trying to pick you up," he retorts._

"_Well obviously. This stupid ankle sucks," she moans, leaning against him as they stand in front of the elevator. She groans when she sees the out-of-service sign and he grins, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. _

"_It's just another month," he reasons with her, although, he's almost relieved he wasn't around during the first month. He'd feel bad for his brother because being stuck with a PMS-ing Rachel is like, a total bitch, but Kurt's probably just as bad and sometimes they both tone it down a little, just so Finn won't get the chance to laugh about how they're basically just as bad as the other when it comes to the theatrics. It shouldn't really surprise him all that much that Rachel and Kurt living together hasn't led to one of them being murdered by the other (although he does get the joy of being on the receiving end of the bitch fests, from __**both**__ sides), they've been best friends (the real, platonic kind. Not the kind that he has with Rachel, whatever __**it**__ is. Obviously.) for years. _

"_C'mon," he tells her consolingly. "I'll give you a ride."_

"_All the way up to the third floor?" she asks doubtfully when they reach the bottom of the stairs. _

"_Please. You weigh like, nothing."_

"_What about my crutches?"_

"_Leave 'em. I'll come back to pick them up."_

"_You sure 'Maria' won't mind?" she asks him teasingly, just a little sarcastic. _

"_I'm sure she'll live," he answers dryly as he takes her crutches and lean them against the wall. She grins up at him as she wraps her arms around his neck._

"_You're so chivalrous Finn," she teases softly when he picks her up by her waist, careful not to bang her wounded ankle against the wall._

"_That's what they all tell me," he jokes, adjusting their positions until she's snug against him. The arms around him tighten as she leans her head against his chest, and he feels his breath catch in his throat when her fingers graze softly against the nape of his neck._

"_I told you that first," she mumbles. He ignores the territorial tone in her voice and walks slowly up the stairs._

"_I don't think you actually need two crutches," he comments._

"_Well yeah, but it just looks better that way. You know, aesthetically speaking."_

"_Or whatever the hell that means."_

_She laughs, tightening her hold on him when she slips._

"_Careful," he says gently. He's not sure why it came out as a whisper._

"_Thanks for the ride," she says, just as quietly._

"_Anytime."_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm just reiterating this to say that the parts in italics happened in the past and the rest is present. The past and present are happening parallel to each other in this story, meaning that both are happening in sequence. The past happened about a year before the present in case anyone wants a timeline. I hope things become clearer after this chapter, but I apologize for the confusion =). This chapter is unedited, so any typos will probably be fixed at a later time when I'm not about to fall asleep lol. **

* * *

><p>"<em>I think I need to get laid," she mumbles, leaning against him, her glass of beer tipped precariously in her hand. She's on her fifth glass and well on her way on becoming drunk and well, he's pretty buzzed himself. Fanny Brice is being her not-so funny self on screen and his copy of Braveheart is waiting patiently next to the DVD player. It's the usual one-of-us-is-in-a-funk tradition, only this time Rachel's got one leg on the coffee table instead of its usual place on his lap.<em>

"_Why are you telling me this?" he asks, scrunching his nose up in distaste. "And since when do you say things like get laid?"_

"'_Cause I'm der-runk. And since I'm a twenty six year old adult and can say whatever I want."_

"_You get mad at me for saying the word booty," he tells her wryly._

"_It's a derogatory term."_

"_And getting laid isn't?" he asks, amused. She looks up at him, stumped for a few seconds before rolling her eyes._

"_Maybe you need to get laid too," she grumbles._

"_Rachel," he says, rolling his eyes._

"_What? I'm sure you have no problems in that department. Give Maria a little ring, and you're all set for the night."_

_He decides to ignore this._

"_I don't want to know about you getting laid," he tells her. Technically, it's true. She snorts as she sits up and away from him._

"_Sure," she scoffs. "You didn't care enough to embarrass me and the guy I was dating in public."_

_He groans as he looks at her scornful expression, setting his can down on the coffee table._

"_We're still talking about this? If I remember correctly, the dude was too busy checking out some biker chick's ass to actually pay attention to our argument."_

_She makes an incoherent noise of discontent as she glares at him and leans forward, beer spilling from the glass in her hand._

"_Excuse me, Ryan was just trying to be polite and not make a scene. He was averting his gaze from your obvious immaturity."_

"_Uh-huh. He 'averted' right to that girl's butt that's what he did-"_

"_Finn Hudson!"_

"_What? I'm not gonna apologize for calling you out on dating that idiot. I mean, seriously. You're telling me you didn't dump him because he couldn't keep it in his pants? "_

"_For your information, Ryan was a very nice man. He just has some issues with fidelity and tack, and given his unstable upbringing, it's perfectly understandable. And he was very nice and loyal to me while we were dating, and it was a mutual separation. Besides, who I date is none of your business, and you're one to talk."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?"_

"_You're the king of dating women who are wrong for you."_

"_Hey!"_

"_Quinn," she starts off in a clipped tone, sticking her thumb out. She sticks her forefinger out next and looks at him pointedly. "Twice."_

_He rolls his eyes, throwing a piece of popcorn in her face. _

"_Seriously Rachel? High school?"_

"_Well, it's obviously a recurring problem," she shoots back, throwing the popcorn back at him. It hits him in the chest, and sticks to the wool of his shirt. Fine, if she wants to go there, he'll go there._

"_What about you? Jesse St. Humpty Dumpty ring any bells?"_

"_It's St. James," she snaps. "And he has apologized for that incident. Numerous times. It's really time you get over it Finn."_

"_Not the point," he tells her, ignoring her glare. "He was still a douchebag, and you still dated him."_

"_Well whose fault was that? If you hadn't dumped me, I wouldn't have gone after him. Besides, Jesse will always be a hundred times better than Santana."_

"_That was just sex." Sex that ruined his fucking life, but whatever. "That didn't count." _

"_How chauvinistic of you."_

"_Besides, if you hadn't gone after Jesse, I wouldn'tve screwed her-"_

"_Finn!"_

"_- and Puck?" he finishes, sticking out his thumb and forefinger mockingly just like she did. "Twice."_

_She snorts and pokes his stomach with her good leg._

"_He's your bestfriend," she exclaims. "How can you lump him up in that category?"_

"_Didn't make him any less of an asshole,"_

"_Well I only used Puck to make you jealous anyway, so he never really counted. And what about Lydia, huh? A single mom Finn? Really?"_

"_There was never anything going on with me and Lydia," he tells her, rolling his eyes. "But it's not like you'll ever believe that."_

"_Right. Because it wasn't like the two of you had a one night stand the first night you met," she spits out derisively. He looks at her in surprise._

"_How the hell did you know about that?" he asks her. She looks a little ashamed by what she said, and he knows she's been snooping._

"_Noah told me," she says nonchalantly and he groans. "But only because I made him. I told him I'd tell his mom he'd been living in sin with a Catholic girl up in Cincinnati if he didn't."_

"_Puck and Quinn have been married for like a year," he says blankly. She rolls her eyes and laughs at him._

"_This was four years ago Finn. Who knew Quinn would be so into Kabbalah and that Mrs Puckerman would be alright with that?"_

"_Oh. Well it's different with her. I mean, it's not like that. You know that."_

"_All I know is that during our final year at college, you suddenly had a little boy attached to your hip and his single and pretty mom was singing praises about how good you were with him. What was I supposed to think?"_

"_That she was a good friend. Just like I told you she was."_

"_A good friend wouldn't have left you so cut up when she moved to San Diego," she says, her voice stripped off any humor. She's looking at him solemnly and he sighs, at a loss of how to convince her. She's never really believed that nothing happened between him and Lydia, he knew. _

_She understands his relationship with Liam, the way he saw himself in that small, fatherless little boy. But his mom was a different matter. Lydia was just two years older than them, and pretty, and just hard enough to be mysteriously attractive and Rachel always took her with a grain of salt. They were civil to one another and he knows that Lydia finds her territorial ways amusing, but Rachel always holds on to him like he's about to be stolen away anytime the three of them were together. He can't say he didn't enjoy it, and he'll plead guilty to using the knowledge to rile her up once or twice, but it's not like she actually has anything to worry about anyway. _

"_You're Finn Hudson and she's Rachel Berry, and I don't know a lot, but it feels like that's all I need to know," Lydia had told him once dryly, when he had very pathetically attempted to explain their relationship, which pretty much sums it up, doesn't it? But it's not like he can tell her any of this without there being any... repercussions. She's still looking at him, and he stares back, contemplating his words, wondering what would happen if he takes the plunge._

"_Well what about that producer dude with the stupid name," he asks loudly instead, steering the topic clear away from serious waters. The look she gives him is unreadable before she looks away and laughs. He thinks she's faking it, but he can't be sure._

"_Demetrius is not a stupid name," she tells him. "It's Shakespearean."_

"_Well, we're 'American'," he jokes, his heartbeat receding considerably. He's not really sure if it's out of relief or disappointment._

"_I admit to dating a few, less than perfect gentlemen-"_

"_Well except for Toby," he says casually, remembering the good-natured red-head lawyer. Toby was the kinda dude you hated to love, but you kinda had to anyway 'cause the guy was just too damn nice. "I liked him."_

"_Yes, Toby was nice, wasn't he?" she answers, taking another sip of her beers. They're both vaguely aware that credits have rolled and all that's currently staring back at them is the blue screen._

"_What happened to the dude anyway?"_

"_He's in Canada, " she tells him absent-mindedly, trying to manoeuvre herself closer to him. _

"_What happened with the both of you?" he asks as he pulls her gently to help her, picking up her bad leg to place it over his lap. "You never told me."_

_She looks at him, her gaze penetrating and maybe he didn't exactly realize how heavy his question was until he asked it._

"_I wouldn't go with him."_

_She says the words quietly, but he feels the weight of them in the way that she's staring at him. It feels like they've been doing this all night, going back and forth between their easy banter and something else, more concrete and heavy. _

"_You wanna know what really happened on my date with Maria?" he asks quietly, looking down at his empty can of beer._

"_What?"_

"_I took her to Breadstix, 'cause that's where we all go to impress the ladies around here. And she spent two hours crying over the guy she left back in Maine," he says, shrugging as he shoots her a lopsided grin. She stares at him for a few seconds before she bursts into laughter, her eyes twinkling with her mirth. _

"_Admit it Hudson, I was the only girl who knew how to appreciate you."_

"_Yeah, but there's the catch," he says before he could stop himself. She stops laughing, looking up at him seriously and he wonders what's wrong with him tonight. Why is he doing this?_

"_What?" she whispers._

"_What what?" he asks, playing dumb as his nerves catches up to him._

"_What's the catch Finn?"_

_The words are at the tip of his tongue, they always are, and sometimes he thinks she knows that. Tonight, he thinks she knows that._

"_You're the only one who broke my heart."_

Xxx

He sits in the corner of the open deli, huddling himself up against the window as memory after memory comes to him in flashes. The cup of black coffee sits untouched on the table in front of him, and he doesn't notice the way the two waitresses are looking curiously at him as they whisper about their only patron for the night.

He barely notices anything.

Xxx

"_Finn," she says softly, speechless. He wonders if it's too late to backpedal, knowing that it is. They both grow quiet, the words he's thrown out closing in on them. _

_The silence is killing him. _

"_Finn I-"_

"_Hey Rach," he pipes up cheerfully, too afraid to hear her answer. She looks at him in surprise._

"_Yeah?"_

"_Wanna dance?"_

"_What?" she asks, bewildered._

"_I said, do you want to dance?"_

"_I know what you said. I just don't understand why you said it."_

"_Dance with me," he answers simply._

"_Why?"_

"_Because you're feeling like crap and you're being way too dramatic over your ankle, and I know you think this might be the end of your Broadway career, which is stupid by the way, because it's not like you fell and broke your talent, right?"_

_She smiles at that, and he pushes on._

"_So like, c'mon dance with me. And then you'll see that even with a busted leg, you've still got better moves than I do, and you know me dancing always makes you happy."_

_Her stare is drilling a hole through him, and he's silently willing for her to ignore what he just told her and whatever that stupid confession might entail._

"_There's no music," she finally says. He smiles, relieved, as he stands. _

"_No? Well, we'll just have to fix that won't we?"_

"_How?"_

"_Let's sing."_

_Her face lights up at his words, and he laughs as he pulls her up against him, allowing her time to find her balance._

"_We haven't done that in a while," she muses, holding on to his shoulders as he wraps his arms around her waist._

"_Yep."_

"_You pick the song."_

_They're standing still, and her feet are on his as she holds onto him. He grins as a song pops up in his head, swaying his body awkwardly as he starts to hum his tune._

"_**Baby**__** come as you are with just your heart**__," he croons softly as she giggles when she recognizes the tune. "__**And I'll take you in, you're rejected and hurt, and-** I can't__ remember how it goes," he whispers, laughing._

"_Just sing the chorus," she tells him quietly, allowing him to steer them on the spot as her feet moves with his. She's a few inches of the ground and he holds her tight, careful not to let her slip._

"_**You don't have to be a star, baby, to be in my show**__," he continues obediently. _

"_**You don't have to be a star, baby, to be in my show,"**__ she joins in softly, grinning up at him._

_They go through the rest of the song pretty badly, fumbling and humming their way through the forgotten lyrics, and she's laughing like a maniac when he starts making up his own. _

_He thinks he could do this forever really, just be with her this way forever._

"_So this hair," he starts her softly when they're done. They're swaying gently together a few feet away from the couch in silence, and she's a little wobbly from the beer and her ankle, and when he looks down all he sees is bright pink and dark brown all mixed together. Her face is pressed up against his chest, and he feels her breath against his shirt. She looks up and smiles ruefully._

"_The haircut is Kurt," she starts. "And the pink is five shots of tequila."_

"_I should've known."_

"_Do you hate it?"_

_She looks up at him a little hesitantly, and he knows this means more to her than she's trying to let on._

"_I love it. It's very pink. Very you."_

"_Really?"_

"_Really."_

"_Thanks Finn."_

_They're quiet again, this time barely moving, as her arms snake their away around his waist, holding him tight._

"_I didn't mean it," he tells her softly. "You didn't break my heart."_

"_Yes you did," she whispers, pulling away to look up at him. "Yes I did."_

_He doesn't look away, even though every logical part of his brain is telling him to. There's something in the way that she's looking at him that has him holding his breath._

"_You broke mine too," she finally says._

_There's a pounding in his chest, his heart is drumming a million beats per second as the moment seems to suspend, and he gets the feeling that his next move is going to make or break everything._

_Screw it._

_He leans in, closer and closer until her eyes widen and there's barely an inch of space left between them._

"_What are you doing?" she asks, her voice choked. _

"_I lied when I told you that I didn't care," he tells her, his hot breath fanning over her lashes. "I do. I didn't hate Ryan because he was an ass, even though he is. I hated him because I was jealous."_

"_So I'm going to kiss you," he whispers, his heart still beating so fast he thinks it might be a heart attack. "And you're going to go with it."_

_There's a quarter of a second where he thinks he's about to literally drop dead on the floor, before her eyes flutter shut and she answers._

"_Okay."_

xxx

_His hands are shaking as they move to the front of her blouse, his fingers trying and failing to undo a button. She's lying on his bed, looking up at him through her lashes and his hands are shaking like he's a fucking fifteen year old._

_He closes his eyes, willing his hands to stay still and he feels her small one close in on the one he's placed on her chest._

"_Finn," she says softly, her voice soothing. "It's me. It's just me."_

_He lets out a short breath of laughter at that, opening his eyes to smile wryly at her even though his hands are still shaking._

"_Exactly," he breathes, leaning down over her, their clasped hands still between them when he captures her lips._

"_It's you," he whispers, his lips brushing against her as he says the words. He feels her trembling beneath him, and suddenly he's not so nervous anymore._

Xxx

_He runs his finger softly down her bare skin, mapping out the places he hasn't seen in five years, noting the changes that has happened since._

_His lips follow wherever his finger goes, and he feels her stomach cave in, her breathing hitched when he gets to the edge of her jeans._

_He looks up to see her nodding at him, her gaze dark as she catches his wrist and places his hand on the button of her pants. His eye catches the dark, bruise-like mark that lies just above her hipbone. _

_It's a small, tiny star, and when he slowly peels away the fabric, he sees that it leads to a cluster of smaller stars, a tiny imprint of a constellation._

"_That tickles," she whispers, breathless, as he traces the patterns gently. He looks up, frowning._

"_Is this what he was talking about?" he whispers back. She nods quietly. "Let me guess. Another drunk Rachel moment?"_

"_Six shots of tequila."_

"_It's always the tequila. We need to lock you up the next time you get wasted."_

"_Do you hate it?" she asks quietly, her voice wavering as she looks up at him, insecure._

"_I hate that he knew something I didn't," he tells her, his fingers digging into the skin of her hips. He looks up at her, his gaze smouldering as he moves up and cages her in his arms. "But I love everything about you."_

_The beam she gives him can light up his whole world, he thinks. They always do._

Xxx

"_I love everything about you too," she whispers breathlessly against his ear as she holds him tight against her_.

Xxx

_He's still catching his breath, the sweat on his skin drying as she trace patterns on his chest, lying close enough to feel the irregular beats against his ribcage. He pulls away from her to scoot down on his bed, until he's looking her in the eye._

_She's smiling softly at him, her hand moving to cup his jaw, her fingers moving over his lips. She's beautiful and she's perfect and he can't stop himself even if he tried._

"_I love you Rachel," he whispers, watching as her eyes widen and then soften, shining as they stare back at his. "I'm in love you. I've always been in love you. We both know that."_

"_Finn-"_

"_I'm done with our games," he continues. "I want us, I want __**this**__."_

_He waits, holding his breath for the hundredth time in less than 24 hours as she stares back at him for the longest time, her fingers suspended on the base of his neck._

"_I want this too," she tells him slowly, and he feels the boulder weighing down on his shoulders lift._

"_Yeah?" he asks, grinning widely as he pulls her back into his embrace. Her small hands press against his chest and he feels the kiss she plants right over his heart._

"_Yeah."_

"_So we'll work this out tomorrow," he tells her quietly. "We'll work it out. We'll work," he finishes, his confidence growing with every word. They're making this work. It'll work this time._

"_Tomorrow," she repeats quietly, holding onto him as he plants a kiss on her forehead._

Xxx

_It's warm when he wakes up, and he doesn't notice the sunlight falling in through the window. He doesn't really notice anything until he turns to the side and reaches out to find empty space. He finally wakes up for real, confused. He sits up from his bed, looking around his room to find everything just like it had been yesterday, with the exception of one._

"_Rachel?"_

_He listens for the shower, but it's quiet. Maybe she's in the living room. It takes him ten seconds to find his clothes on the floor, and it takes him about a minute to realize that her crutches are gone._

"_Rachel?" he calls out again, ignoring the small voice in his head that's telling him she bailed and that he's just fucked things up irrevocably. _

_She'll come back._

Xxx

It's light out when he finally returns, and he opens his door to an empty apartment. The door to his room is open, and despite himself, he calls out for her anyway.

"Rachel?"

There is no answer, and when he finally reaches his bedroom in fifteen steps, he finds it empty.

She's gone.

Life goes on.

Xxx

"So she's gone?" Kurt asks quietly on the other line. He closes his eyes to will the migraine away.

"She's gone."

"I didn't know she was going to San Diego. She told me it was a trip to London-"

"It's fine Kurt."

Kurt says nothing, and his eyes stare unseeingly at the TV screen in front of him.

"I wouldn't have stopped her if I knew," his brother finally says.

"Kurt," he starts, sighing.

"Are you sure this is what you really want?" Kurt asks, ignoring him. He thinks his home still smells like her.

"Nothing about this was ever what I wanted."

* * *

><p>Lyrics to You Don't Have to be a Star by Marilyn McCoo &amp; Billy Davis Jr.<p>

Reviews are like happy pills, just so you know...


	6. Chapter 6

_He waits two hours before he tries her cell._

_It's turned off._

_xxx_

_He calls her house, and her daddy tells him that she left on the first flight out._

_Maybe it's an emergency. Maybe some big shot director called her while he was sleeping and maybe she's getting her big break._

_And maybe she's just too excited and too overwhelmed to remember about calling him._

_Yeah._

_Maybe._

_xxx_

_**She'll come back**__, he tells himself. She will. Or at least, she'll call and say something. She won't just leave him like this. She won't leave him this way because she's Rachel, and she's crazy and dramatic, and she has a tendency to be mean when she's defensive, but she's not __**cruel.**_

_She's Rachel and he __**knows**__ her._

_She'll come back._

_xxx_

"_Hey Rach? It's me, Finn. Well duh. It's my number. Anyway, this is like, my hundredth message or something. Okay I'm exaggerating. I think. Just- just call me, kay?"_

_Xxx_

"_Rachel, come on. It's been like a week. Don't do this. You don't want to do this. I know you don't. I miss you, and I __**know**__ you miss me. Rach-"_

_The beep cuts him off and he stares stupidly at the phone, realizing that this is the third time he's been cut off._

_Xxx_

_His anxiety turns into anger and soon the picture he's got of her on his desk gets thrown into the trash can along with his half-eaten sandwich._

_Xxx_

"_You're being a real bitch, you know that?"_

_Xxx_

_He can't bring himself to regret that night._

_No matter what happened, or what will happen, he can't regret the feeling that everything was finally falling into place._

_He won't._

_xxx_

"_Look, if what you need is time, then I totally get it. Maybe what we both need right now is just a little space to think things out or something. I'll just- let's agree to do the whole silent treatment thing for three days, okay? No contact, well, I won't leave anymore messages. Three days, and then we'll just- we'll hash things out kay?"_

_Xxx_

_He stares at her smiling face (fished hastily out of the garbage), hoping that she'll call now that he's stopped._

_Xxx_

_It's four days and he thinks his life is probably on the brink of falling apart. Or at least, it's about to change in the worst possible way._

_Xxx_

_Someone picks up the phone._

"_Rachel! __**Finally**__. Rach, we need to-"_

"_Finn."_

_He frowns, pulling the phone away from his ear to make sure he's got the right number._

"_Kurt?"_

_His brother is quiet on the other side. He stares silently at his reflection from the mirror hanging in his room (He notes that she made him buy it, spent hours telling him that he needed one, and then dragged him to IKEA to tell him exactly which one he needed). There's a four o'clock shadow on his face, and he's surprised by the dark circles under his eyes. It hits him that he's barely been sleeping in two weeks._

"_She won't talk to me, will she?" he asks, his tone coming off vacant as his stare fixates on the unruly mop on his head. He barely hears the sigh coming from the other end as he frowns at the stranger in front of him. _

_What the hell happened to him?_

"_Maybe," Kurt starts slowly. "Maybe just give her a little space."_

_There are no problems there. There's a world of space between them at the moment._

"_Do you know what happened?" he asks quietly. _

"_She hasn't said a word. But I know enough."_

"_Kurt I-" he starts to interject._

"_I'm not saying I agree with her," his brother cuts in. He says nothing to that, or to the almost exasperated lilt in Kurt's voice._

"_What do I do?" he asks softly._

"_She's as stubborn as a mule," Kurt answers in annoyance. "We both know that. But she cares Finn. We both know that too."_

"_I'm not sure I do."_

_He's not sure of anything anymore, because the last time he thought something was a sure thing, she left him alone and ran all the way to New York City._

_On a broken ankle, no less._

"_Yes you do. She's just- She's running scared."_

"_She doesn't have to be."_

"_She'll figure that out."_

_Xxx_

_He can't lose her._

_He was stupid to take a chance. He's not what she wants, not anymore. And it __**fucking**__ hurts, but he'll be okay. _

_Right?_

_But he can't lose her._

_She's his bestfriend._

_xxx_

_He takes a deep breath as he waits for the inevitable voicemail._

"_Hey," he starts, his voice low. "Let's start over. Can we just do that? Forget that whole night ever happened and just start all over. In like, five seconds. Ready? Five, four, three, two… one." _

"_Hey Rach," he starts exuberantly. "How's the Great White Way treating you? Someone discover you yet? I know you're real busy so I'll just keep this short. Send out a quick hello to your bestfriend, Rach. C'mon."_

_He hangs up, rolling his eyes at his own pathetic version of trying to sound like himself. He doesn't even speak like that._

_Well at least he tried._

_Starting over's going to be a bitch._

Xxx

Life goes back to normal surprisingly fast.

Sometimes it feels like he really did just conjure her up out of thin air.

But he opens the fridge and there's a zucchini sitting primly at the bottom shelf, and he knows it wasn't all in his head.

He throws himself into work, working and reworking the lesson plan for the second half of the semester, trying to force himself not to feel. It works because Finn Hudson is the king of avoidance, and he's had a lot of practice in being emotionally dysfunctional.

The world turns as it always does, but he guesses that's just the way it goes.

Lydia catches him at work as she sends Liam and Nate off and he answers her raised eyebrow with a rueful shake of his head. She looks at him appraisingly before she bends down to cater to Liam incessantly pulling on her shirt.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" she whispers as he passes by. He doesn't answer, giving the boy a high five instead.

He's never sure.

He tells himself that he's not really looking over his shoulder to see if she's there.

Xxx

He finds one half of her earrings hooked on the edge of his bedspread when he's changing his sheets.

She left a small bottle of her perfume in his medicine cabinet.

There's a cheap paperback between his couch, one of those trashy romance novels she probably bought at the airport.

He wonders if she left all these pieces of her behind on purpose to annoy him.

He keeps everything he finds in a box under his bed and he doesn't even know why.

Because she's not coming back and he doesn't want her to.

He shouldn't want her to.

xxx

He's putting the finishing touches to his killer mash-up, and he's confident the kids aren't going to question his generation after this. Sure, techno pop isn't exactly his cup of tea, but they should do something they think is awesome for the concert, and for some unknown reason to him, they love those robotic voices. And besides, the acoustic version he's coming up with is going to be _epic_.

He's humming along to the music, frowning as he tries to fit the verses together. His reading glasses are perched at the tip of his nose as he scribbles over the notes on the sheet music, and he barely hears the knock against his door, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in concentration.

He sets his guitar down against the couch as he frowns, listening to make sure there really is someone knocking. He hears three sharp raps against his door and stands, still frowning.

"Coming!" he yells. Who's possibly looking for him at ten in the morning on a Saturday afternoon?

There's another, softer knock as he reaches his door, and he pulls it open a little impatiently. He's about to tell whoever it is to learn a little patience, but his words disappear somewhere along his throat.

She's standing straight in front of him, the largest beam she could possibly muster taking up half her face. It takes him a few seconds to get his motor skills working.

"Ra-"

"Hi!" she starts brightly, holding out her hand. "My name is Rachel Barbra Berry. Maybe you've heard of me. I was in the off Broadway production of Phantom of the Opera and was actually _on_ Broadway playing Anita for West side Story. No? Well that's okay, the wonders of musical theater has yet to reach the masses the way I had hoped it would."

He stares at her dumbly, his mouth hanging slightly open as she looks at him expectantly, her hand still suspended in the air between them.

"What are you doing?" he asks stupidly, releasing his hold on the door and letting his hands drop to his sides.

"I'm sorry for barging in so suddenly," she continues like she never heard him, putting her hand down. "You see, I'm here on a… little soul searching slash mini vacation, and I seem to have lost my purse. It had all my money and credit cards-"

"What are you talking about? Did you get mugged?" he asks sharply, his eyes roaming over her to look for any signs of physical hurt. Her eyes widen like she's startled for a moment before the sunny beam is back in place.

"No, it was just… misplaced."

He looks at her suspiciously, wariness settling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that she's up to something.

"Now I know we're strangers," she continues rapidly, "but something compelled me to knock on your door and I promise you, all I'm asking for right now is a place to crash for a few days while I sort everything out."

If he's looking at her like she's crazy, it's because she is. But she's unperturbed by the incredulous expression on his face, and she's talking to him like he didn't just send her out of his life a week ago, like all the tension that had been boiling over between them had disappeared.

In fact, she's talking to him like she doesn't even know him.

"You can call me Rachel," she tells him confidently, extending her hand once again. "And you are?"

All at once her actions become clear to him.

She wants to start over, forget everything that had happened, forget _they_ ever happened.

She wants a clean slate.

_It's not gonna work_, he wants to tell her.

_You're fucking insane Rachel. _

_I'm not playing this game with you._

She's staring up at him with all the self assurance in the world as she grins. But he sees the stubborn tension in her eyes and the way her jaw locks just slightly. Her luggage is on the floor, waiting to be invited.

His hand reaches out to take hers before he knows what he's doing, and his mouth moves of its own accord.

"Finn. You can call me Finn."

Xxx

They start over in five seconds.

Five, four, three, two.

One.


	7. Bad habits

**A/N: No I have not abandoned this story, but unfortunately, updates and chapters will probably continue to come very slowly. On the plus side, there are just about four to five chapters left. Acknowledgment must be given to wood-u-like-2-no, whose consistent reminders has finally guilt me into writing. Thanks =)**

* * *

><p>They're living in a weird state of limbo, trying their best to pretend like they haven't been sharing the last twelve years of memories together. Maybe Rachel is just a damn good actress, because she smiles at him and she talks to him like he's just some guy she met less than 24 hours ago, and if life is one big, unfunny musical, this will surely be her Tony award-winning role, while he stands off to the side as usual, nodding and occasionally using as minimal words as possible to communicate, because how the hell does one go about erasing twelve years of history anyway?<p>

He still doesn't know what the hell he'd just gotten himself into.

But he can't go back now because she's hell-bent on making this work if that slightly manic look behind her eyes is any indication, and if there's anything he's learned in twelve years, it's that going along with Rachel Berry's crazy ideas has become his worst habit.

(At the back of his mind, he knows this could all end with just one word from him, but old habits die hard)

He feels like he's six years old, and they're playing pretend out in the playground during recess.

He's approaching this surreal situation like he's six years old and they're playing pretend out in the playground during recess.

But he's always been terrible at the game though.

Xxx

He's sitting at the dinner table in the kitchen area, watching her as she deftly chops the zucchini she 'found' in the fridge (as if she wasn't the one who had put it there). She's going on and on about her life on Broadway and he gets the feeling that maybe what she's really trying to do is to fill in on the last year he missed.

"Admittedly, being on such a successful show was utterly exhausting, but I loved almost every second of it," she tells him cheerfully as she dumps the vegetable into a dish.

"Why almost?" he asks, finally speaking after almost an hour of complete silence. Her movements pause for a fraction of a second before she turns on the tap and runs the knife under the running water. She turns to smile at him briefly before she turns back around.

"There's just always something more in the back of my mind," she says softly.

"Something else?" he asks like he's being casual. He's a better actor than he thought.

"No. Something more."

Xxx

"So I take it you teach music?" she asks after dinner is over and he's cleaning up the sheet music on the coffee table.

"How'd you guess?" he mumbles, a little sarcastically because this whole pretending thing is still weird to him.

"The sheet music," she says. "And that stack of papers with all those red marks."

"Oh."

"Where do you teach?"

"La Jolla Country Day School," he answers shortly. He wonders if she already knows this.

"What's it like?"

He actually thinks about this as she sits on his armchair and looks at him expectantly.

"It's like babysitting a bunch of spoiled rich kids with more money than they know what to do with, so they buy expensive instruments they barely know how to use," he answers with a wry smile on his face. She grins at him.

"Must be nice to have all that money to burn," she remarks.

"Tell me about it. These kids are hopeless. Like, only two of them even know what Pearl Jam is. Not who, _what_. Talk to them about anything beyond 2010, and you're an old foagie," he continues, rolling his eyes. She laughs at that, smiling brightly at him.

"So I guess the responsibility lies solely on your shoulders to save these kids from themselves?" she jokes.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"In other words, you totally love it here," she continues, a warm smile on her face. He grins.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Xxxx

"Do you have any sweater vests?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sweater vests. I used to have a teacher that wears them all the time," she says casually, leaning back in her seat. He almost smiles as an image of Mr. Schue automatically pops up in his mind.

"For some reason I just associate them with inspiring teachers," she continues, shrugging.

"They're not really my thing," he says, his mind stuck on the last two words she uttered and the memory she triggered.

xxx

"_You think I can do it Rach? Be a teacher and like, inspire kids and all that?" he asks as she settles herself on his lap. He can't get over the surprised look that passed over his mom's face when he told her what he was thinking of doing. It lasted for a second, but he still saw it. But who the hell would have figured Finn Hudson for a Music Education major anyway?_

_Cool fingers land just under his jaw, gently pulling head up to meet her smiling gaze._

"_You've always inspired __**me**__."_

_xxx_

"I guess they _are_ a little outdated," she concedes, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Finn?" she calls, bemused when he says nothing.

_Stop thinking of the past._

"Okay, you have to promise you won't tell anyone," he starts seriously, attempting to proceed with the conversation.

"What?" she asks, alert.

"I have one sweater vest," he confesses as he holds up his forefinger, grinning. She stares at him for a second before she smirks, her eyes twinkling.

"I knew it."

Xxx

Day two passes by surprisingly easy.

He wakes up to the sound of her singing Whitesnake at the top of her lungs and momentarily forgets where he is, forgets a whole year had ever existed, and grins at the thought of Rachel going through his music again.

But that doesn't last long and when he remembers he pulls himself out of bed, shuffling into the living room to find her shimmying by the coffee table as she straightens out the papers he'd already straightened out the night before.

It's eight in the morning and she's already dressed and full of energy, her pillows and blankets folded neatly at the head of his couch.

He clears his throat and she stumbles before she whips around to look at him, startled.

"Good morning!" she greets brightly, blushing. His brain is still catching up with the rest of his body, and the wry smile on his face is just a knee-jerk reaction or something.

"You always this happy in the morning?" he asks, amused.

"I find that starting your morning with a great performance brightens up the rest of the day," she answers shamelessly.

"Huh."

Maybe there's some truth to that.

It already feels like it's going to be a good day.

Xxx

He tries but just can't ever forget that it's Rachel.

This is Rachel Berry, the girl he's been irrevocably attached to, for better or worse, for almost half his life, and he's never been the type of person that could compartmentalize his feelings.

But he _can_ see her as a new Rachel, a Rachel who's everything he's ever known but still so different at the same time.

It gets easier to disassociate her with the hurt he's got buried inside him.

She's Rachel, but she's not _his_ Rachel.

Xxx

"I have a hundred and fifteen dollars in my luggage," she says suddenly on third day before he leaves for school. "Oh, and seventy cents."

"What?"

"That is literally the only fortune I have access to right now."

"Okay," he continues, confused. Is she trying to ask him for money or something?

"That's a _huge_ risk, huh?" she says, laughing nervously as her hands grip the mug of coffee on the table.

He gets it.

"Pretty huge," he agrees.

"Think it'll pay off?"

Talking in riddles confuses the hell out of him.

"I don't know," he answers shortly, standing up to leave.

Xxx

"Seriously guys?" he starts, exasperated. "Your assignment was to go home and look up classic pop, and this is what you come up with? The Spice Girls, Kimberley? Really?"

"They were kinda cool," she answers defensively, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "In a totally tacky kinda way."

He shakes his head in disappointment as she snatches her paper from his hand sheepishly. Finn moves up the aisle, returning their homework along the way.

"Rolling Stones, better. The Beach Boys, Hall & Oates, and now we're getting somewhere," he jokes out loud, high-fiving Toby as he hands the boy his paper on U2. He reads the next header and sighs as he looks up.

"Air Supply? Where exactly on the internet have you been lurking Mike? Justin Bieb- have I taught you people _nothing_ in the last four mo-"

"Mr. H?" Sophie calls out. He looks up to find the girl staring oddly at something behind him.

"What?"

"We have a lurker," she says, pointing a finger towards the door. Fifteen pairs of eyes follow her.

"Huh?" He turns around in confusion.

She's standing just behind the door, her expression startled at the sudden attention. Awkwardly, she raises a hand to wave at him from behind the glass.

"Here," he mumbles absent-mindedly, thrusting the rest of the papers at whoever it is in front of him. "Give them out to the rest of the class."

He strides quickly towards her, ignoring the increasing chatter behind him. She smiles brightly at him from behind the glass as he twists the knob open.

"Hi," she says brightly.

"What are you doing here?" He doesn't sound hostile. Or at least, he doesn't mean to.

"I was just um- I was in the neighbourhood, and I just thought I'd check this place out, you know? Did I come at a bad time? Do you want me to leave? Louise told me I could just-"

"No, no it's fine. I just didn't expect you is all."

"You're busy. I'm sorry, I should-"

"Rachel, it's fine. Really."

She smiles, relieved before she peers behind him.

"So these are the hopeless kids?" she asks. He turns around and smiles ruefully as a paper airplane sails through the air and lands on Dylan Thomas's desk, who promptly unfolds it and starts playing the melody written on the sheet music with his flute.

"That's them," he agrees.

"They look like a talented bunch."

"They are," he answers, and he's not going to lie, there's a little bit of pride in there. He realizes that she's holding a brown paper bag in her hand and wonders if that's his lunch.

"I should let you get back to teaching," she tells him. "That girl with the pink guitar is starting to glare. Is it- would you mind if I just hang around this place while you finish? I brought lunch," she finishes, holding up her paper bag enticingly. She's looking at him expectantly and it looks like she's choosing to ignore the tension that's building between them since yesterday at breakfast.

He can't seem to deny her when she's trying so hard.

It's just another one of his bad habits.

"How about you come in here?" He checks his watch. "We've got about a half hour of class left, and I'll bet they'd love to hear all about your life as a true, legitimate star."

She blushes at his words.

"This is California," she starts in an attempt to be modest. "I'm sure they've seen a ton of famous celebrities around."

"Yeah, probably," he agrees with a nod. "But I'm sure none of them was a Broadway star with sky-high vocal chops."

"No I suppose not. I do have a ton of real-life experiences I'd be more than willing to share."

"Great."

"You sure you don't mind?" she asks again a little hesitantly.

"I wouldn't have asked if I did."

Her face breaks into a real smile.

"Okay."


	8. Reset button

**A/N: Well I hope people haven't forgotten this one existed. LOL. Thanks to MaraMac and CSM for their input on this chapter.**

* * *

><p>"So wait, let me get this straight," Kimberley starts as she leans over in her seat to look at Rachel. "You're like, famous or something?"<p>

"Well," Rachel starts, glancing around her modestly. "I guess in certain circles yes."

"How come I've never heard of you?"

"The musical theatre industry is still, unfortunately, quite underrated in showbusiness."

"So you're like an actress?" Sara Hanson pipes up, looking up momentarily from the phone in her hand before she goes back to texting furiously.

"Sara," he says in a warning tone. "What did I say about texting in class?"

"But we're having a break."

"This is not a break. It's a.. It's like a sharing session."

Sara rolls her eyes, but she obediently slips her phone in the backpocket of her jeans.

"To answer Sara's question, yes, I'm an actress."

"So you act and sing, right? I mean, that's what musical theatre is," Patrick Baker asks from the back of the class.

"How do you know what it is?" Dylan asks him curiously.

"Haven't you people watched High School Musical?" Patrick asks, shaking his head dramatically when the other kids look back at him with blank faces. "Zac Efron was in it."

Half the room gasps, as the girls ask him when this was. Rachel turns to look at him helplessly and he shrugs, grinning.

"Pipe down guys!" he calls out loudly. "And pay attention to Miss Berry."

Fourteen pairs of eyes swivel back towards her, and she looks taken aback for a moment before she smiles.

"Yes, I do act and sing, although I pride myself in being a more superior singer. I'm sure Mr. Hudson has assigned you guys to a musical number or two."

Her eyes widen when nobody answers, and she turns to him, absolutely appalled.

"Finn," she starts, scandalized. "Not even one musical number?"

"We're kind of having a hard time as it is with one mainstream genre," he answers wryly, trying to hide a smile at the way she's shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm so sorry that your teacher has deprived you from such an important genre in music," she tells his class in disappointment. He rolls his eyes when the kids turn to look at him accusingly.

"Okay, okay. We'll have one class on it."

"We can do High School Musical!" Patrick pipes up. "Movie night at my place!"

The class starts to get noisy again when all the girls turn to him in excitement and most of the boys start to groan, and he catches her hiding a smile at his own inward groan at the thought of dedicating a whole hour to the show.

"Not High School Musical guys! We'll do like The Sound of Music, or Grease-"

"Oh that's good," Rachel pipes up.

"Or whatever-"

"But- but Zac Efron is _our_ generation's Brad Pitt-" Patrick starts, his voice drowned out by Sophie's as she raises her hand up high.

"Yeah. Mr. H you gotta let us do that!"

"No way, dude's a total sissy-"

"We'll discuss this later, now seriously guys! Have a little respect for our guest here, and pipe it down!"

Patrick shakes his head, sending him a cross between a hopeful gaze and a disappointed glare. He swears he's never had a student more dramatic than that kid. Rachel clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak.

"Are you even any good?"

"Kimberley," he calls out in a warning tone. The girl turns to look at him and shrugs.

"What? It's not like you even need talent to be famous."

For her part, he's pretty impressed by how quickly Rachel's indignant gasp is replaced by a confident smirk.

"There's really only one way to find out isn't there?" she starts cryptically.

Xxx

He sits restlessly at the back seat on the top aisle next to Patrick. The kids are all straightening up in their seats as she walks towards the piano in the middle of the room. He manages a small smile when she curtseys dramatically before taking a seat by the piano. She's commanding the room, just like she always does when she gets this way. He sees every one of his kids turning their attention to the small woman tinkering with the piano in front of them. She was overwhelmed earlier, unsure of how to react to a roomful of rowdy teenagers, but now, now she has them all under her spell, and they don't even realize it.

"This isn't real a musical number," she starts, smiling at them. "But it's a beautiful song. An old one, but not, I'm sure, as old as some of the music Mr. Hudson makes you listen to."

He rolls his eyes in good nature, mockingly glaring at them as the kids start to snicker.

The melody sounds oddly familiar, and as she starts to sing, her eyes look up to find him. He feels it getting smaller, this space around them.

"_Hello world, hope you're listening_," she starts, her voice soft and clear and as imposing as a thousand million headlights aimed right at him. "_Forgive me if I'm young for speaking out of turn. There's someone I've been missing,"_

Her eyes, closed tightly before with her brows furrowed, opens again as she sings the words, looking straight at him, her gaze arresting.

She's tricking him. She just tricked him into listening.

"_I think that they could be, the better half of me_."

He looks away from her gaze, but nothing could tear him away from the sound of her voice, and just as it always does, the sound cuts through him, pierces right through to his heart, and it's like he feels it, all the pain and uncertainty she's been carrying with her seeping into each word.

"_Come home, come home. 'Cause I've been waiting for you, for so long, for so long_."

The room is completely silent save for the music coming from the middle of the room, and he barely notices the way Patrick dramatically puts one hand over his chest, or the way Kimberley is staring, wide-eyed as she sits up in her seat. The only thing he sees is her, and t""Yhe way she's looking at him as she pours them out in the open, everything he's been too afraid and too adamant not to hear. Tears start to stream down her face, but she keeps on singing, and he kind of hates it a little, how much he still loves her.

She looks away, smiling tremulously as she makes eye contact with all his kids, ever the professional performer, the strength of her voice picking up now that she's torn her gaze away from him. He doesn't realize that he's got a death grip on the bottom of his chair, or how much he wants her eyes to drift back towards him. They don't. All through the rest of the song, she alternates between looking down at the keys of the piano and looking up at the kids, until she reaches her last verse, when she turns towards him again, her eyes telling him everything he's already known they would.

"_But all I see is you and me_," she sings softly, looking back down at the ivory keys as the music starts to slow down. "_The fight for you is all I've ever known, so come home_."

The last of the music tapers out and she's looking straight at him when she finishes, her body frozen as he looks back. So much for starting over, maybe by now she's realizing that they're just fooling themselves.

"You are fabulous," Patrick gushes, startling him out of vacuum they were under. He sees her shaking her head, as if trying to pull herself away too, before she smiles wide at the rest of them, standing up and giving another small curtsey.

"How famous are you?" Sophie starts breathlessly, but before Rachel could answer, Missy in the front row interrupts her.

"Do you know anyone famous?"

"Oh my God! Do you know Zac Efron?"

"Actually, I've met him-" Rachel starts, but she doesn't get to finish a word as his kids start up again, talking over one another in an excited buzz. Over their heads, she sends him a helpless smile, and he's already returning it as he claps his hands loudly.

"Okay seriously guys! One at a time! And please, enough with Zac Efron. This is a music class for God's sake!"

"But Mr. H-" Patrick whines, but he doesn't get to hear what the boy has to say because the bell rings, and as enchanted as they had been by her performance, that's still all it takes for their concentration to break.

"Musical theatre week next week!" he yells as his students start to leave. "I want to hear you guys talk about three different musicals that you will be seeing this weekend. Yes Patrick," he answers, rolling his eyes as the boy turns and raises his hand. "You can talk about High School Musical."

"Movie night at my place!"

He shakes his head as he finally moves to stand, chuckling as most of the boys roll their eyes while the girls are already planning their sleepovers. He turns to find Rachel talking quietly to Kimberley, patting the young girl on her back before she smiles and waves goodbye to her retreating figure.

"Bye Mr. H," Kimberley says breezily as she walks past him, closing the door behind her before he could reply.

It's just the two of them, and he could feel the charge filling up the room as he concentrates on getting straight to his desk before he looks at her. He needs something to stand behind.

"She wants to be a singer you know," Rachel starts as he reaches it. She's still standing at the same spot.

"Kimberley?" he asks. "I never knew that."

"She just told me," Rachel says.

"Oh."

An awkward silence ensues between them as he picks up his bag.

"Lunch?" Rachel offers when he looks up, pointing to the brown paper bag on his desk.

"Yeah," he tells her, wondering why his hands feel clammy. "Okay."

Xxx

"I don't know how you do it," she says, shaking her head. They sit together on the bench just outside the school building, both on the far end, but it still feels a little too close as he bites into his sandwich. He can feel the nerves coming off her.

"Do what?"

"Just- make them pay attention to you like that. It's amazing to watch really."

He snorts as he looks up at her in disbelief.

"You do that with a thousand people like, almost every day," he tells her wryly. She shakes her head earnestly.

"That's different. Those people pay to watch my performances, but you- I mean it's hard to make these kids listen, but they really do listen to you."

"Yeah, it didn't start out so easy I can tell you that."

"Regardless," she says, shrugging. "Those kids really love you. I can tell."

"Yeah," he answers, embarrassed. "Well they're good kids, you know? They just- they just want you to listen to them sometimes."

"And you're good at that," she says, smiling. "You're good at listening."

"Well-"

"Finn?"

He looks up to find Lydia looking at him quizzically. He can feel Rachel freezing up in an instant.

"Lydia," he says, surprised as he stands up abruptly. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Liam forgot his art supplies," she tells him wryly, holding up a paper bag. She shoots him a meaningful glare, an obvious "what the hell is going on" which he tries to ignore. He hears the rustling next to him and turns to find Rachel standing. Lydia turns to her and smiles, holding out her hand.

"Rachel," she starts, turning to give Finn another meaningful look. "What a surprise to see _you_ here."

"Hello," Rachel says pleasantly, shaking Lydia's hand. He knows her too well though, knows her well enough to still recognize the undercurrent of strain in her voice. "I'm just here for a visit actually. How are you Lydia?"

"Me? Oh I'm awesome. You look great," Lydia tells her with a grin. "Doesn't she look fantastic Finn?"

"Yeah," he answers uncomfortably, grabbing the back of his neck without looking at Rachel. "Yeah she does."

"Oh well, look at the time. Liam will kill me if I'm late. He has art in like, ten minutes. I told the boy to pack his bag before going to sleep, but does he listen? Of course not, he just spent his time on that game you and Nate insisted on buying for him, because he's determined to beat you at some Rice song-"

"Rush, Lydia. _Rush_," he answers in exasperation, grinning. She waves him off, scoffing.

"And Nate, is of course, no help at all, and-"

"Lydia," he cuts in, glancing at Rachel's frozen smile. "I thought you were late."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Anyway, Rachel we should catch up," she says, turning to the smaller woman. "Have a drink or two. I heard you were on Broadway, I'm sure you'll have one or two stories to share with us."

"I'd love to," Rachel tells her, that frozen smile still in place.

"Well then I should go."

She turns to him, giving him a look that says he has a lot of explaining to do, before she sends them a small wave and turns towards the building.

They watch her as she enters the school, and he can still feel her frozen beside him.

"Lydia's here," she says softly.

"Yeah. Liam goes to this school, I guess I forgot to mention that."

"Yeah."

He turns to her and smiles, shrugging as he grabs what's left of his sandwich and sits back down. He looks up at her in confusion when she doesn't do the same.

"I should go," she tells him, picking up the trash they've accumulated in the middle of the bench.

"Go?" he repeats stupidly.

"Yes, your lunch is ending soon, and I guess I've taken up enough of your time."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I'l um- I'll-" She's flustered. He frowns when she stops talking, noting the way her voice trembles.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, smiling at him. It doesn't quite reach her eyes though.

"I'll see you later then?" he asks helpfully, standing up.

"Yeah," she says, collecting herself as she looks up at home. "I'll see you later."

Xxx

He has a nagging feeling at the back of his head that he can't seem to shake off, not even when Lydia catches him at the end of school to give him an earful about not keeping her in the loop.

"I kinda had other things to worry about Lydia," he answers distractedly as she rails at him while Nate snickers in the background, Liam hanging off him like a monkey. It takes him all of ten minutes to summarize everything and another five for her to describe exactly how idiotic both he and Rachel are acting, while he spends the whole time completely ignoring every word that comes out of her mouth.

"So now what happens?" she asks him.

"I don't know."

Xxx

He braces himself as he stands just outside the door. They've been screwing this whole day up, but it's all her fault really. She shouldn't have been singing to him like that. She had no business singing to him like that. Or was it really his fault all along? Because he was the one who invited her in wasn't he? Maybe this whole thing has been his fault from the beginning, him and his inability to ever count her out of anything.

He sighs, pushing the door open.

The silence that greets him is a little unnerving.

"Rachel?" he calls out. There's no answer, and the awful familiarity of this situation is starting to freak him out. "Rachel?"

"I'm here."

He turns to the doorway of his room to see her standing there, smiling quietly at him. He feels his anxiety receding, until his eye catches the luggage next to her.

"What are you doing?" he asks quietly, holding his breath without realizing it. She stares at him hesitantly before her face breaks out into another resigned smile.

"I'm doing what you want me to," she tells him softly. "I'm- I guess I'm leaving."

"You're what?" he asks sharply, feeling an unmistakable flash of anger surge through him. She shakes her head.

"You don't want me here, Finn. God I'm such an _idiot_. I screwed up, and- and I had no right- I _have_ absolutely no right to be here, and- and to force you to let me in again. I see that now. You have a life here, you're happy and I can't just come barging in pretending like I matter anymore-"

"You already have," he answers tersely. She looks up at him in surprised silence, before she nods, hanging her head as if she's accepting her fate.

"I'm selfish," she says. "I was being selfish, and you were being nice, even though I don't deserve it, and you were entertaining me, but- but you're right, you know?" He sees her eyes filling up with tears, but he's just a little too busy trying to contain his sudden rage to care when she looks away from him. "I should have had the decency to let you go when you told me to."

"Where the hell is this coming from?" he asks her angrily, stepping closer with his hands balled in fists as he reaches her. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" he asks in exasperation.

She looks up at him in surprise.

"_Me_?" she asks, pointing to herself. "I- I'm doing what you want!"

He laughs derisively at her words, shaking his head furiously.

"No. No Rachel. Once again, you're doing what _you_ want."

"This is _not_ what I want-"

"Then why the hell are you running?" he shouts, letting his frustrations take the best of him. "You're _always_ running!"

"I'm _trying_ to do the right thing!" she yells, tears streaming down her face as he looms over her in anger, glaring viciously at her miserable form.

"And what is that?" he starts sarcastically. "Screwing me over?"

"You- you have a _life_ here," she starts again, choosing to ignore his last words. "And I didn't _think_ about that. About you moving on and having someone else in your life. I didn't think about that when all I thought, all I _think_ about all the time is how to get you back- but- but today I _see_ you, in your life here. And you're _happy_ Finn. You fit right in here, with these people- with-with San Diego, and Lydia and Liam-"

"Lydia?" he cuts in, a sudden blinding lightbulb going off in his brain. "This is about _Lydia_?"

She doesn't say anything as she looks away, but the thin line of her lips tells him all he needs to know.

"Lydia is married," he tells her shortly. Her head snaps up towards him in an instant. "Which, I would have easily told you if you had bothered to ask, instead of jumping to stupid, dumb conclusions as you always do."

She opens her mouth to retort but thinks better of it, probably catching the unyielding look on his face.

"But that's your specialty right? Running away, jumping to conclusions, walking in and out of my life and confusing the _fuck_ out of me every single time you do-"

"Finn-"

"So you're just giving up, huh? Funny thing is I thought you were really trying to fight for us-"

"I am!"

"You have a funny way of showing it, when you're all ready to take off at the first sign of a bump in the road!"

"What do you care?" she bursts out passionately, letting go of the handle of her luggage to close the distance between them as she stands on her tiptoes to glare up at him. "You don't even want me here, remember? You told me to leave!" She chuckles humourlessly, shaking her head. "And I'm just a fool desperate enough to- to make an _idiot_ out of myself trying to pretend that we could start over-"

"Then what the hell does that make me Rachel?" he yells back. "Because I'm going along with it aren't I? And you're just leaving again anyway!"

"I _don't_ want to leave!"

"Then _don't_!"

"Okay!" she yells, frustration radiating off of her in waves as she trembles.

"Fine!" he shouts, taking a hold of her luggage and pushing past her to dump it back on to the bed. His hands are shaking, and his head hurts from the burst of adrenaline that's pumping in his veins.

"Finn," he hears her call softly from behind him.

"_What_?" he snaps angrily, whirling around to glare at her. The look on her face disarms him. There's a small, hesitant smile playing around her lips.

"I'm not leaving," she tells him softly.

"I know," he answers, slightly perplexed.

"You can't make me."

"Rachel-"

"I'm not leaving for anything in the world." He looks at her in silence as she stares back, confident.

"You shouldn't say things you don't mean," he tells her carefully.

"I'm not. Neither should you."

It takes a while to really digest her implication, to realize what exactly had just happened.

"I'm not," he finally says in a quiet voice.

"Good."

"I'm not."


	9. The Schmucks of the Universe

"I know you're not ready to forgive me," she says quietly as she sits across from him at the dinner table. He doesn't say anything because if he's honest with himself, he doesn't know what the hell he's ready to do. But apparently his subconscious does, because it made him make her stay, and how is he supposed to turn away from her now?

He settles for a silent nod of his head. She sighs, turning the mug of coffee in her hands as she looks at him appraisingly.

"But, can I wait?" she asks in a hesitant voice. "Would it- would you let me wait?"

She's trying not to be presumptuous, and he can appreciate that, especially since it's starting to become obvious by now what the eventual outcome of this is going to be. The fact that she acts as if he actually has a choice right now makes him hate it a little less, his inability to just _not_ feel what he doesn't want to feel.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah you can wait."

She's not looking at him, her eyes trained on the mug in her hand. But the smile starts slow on her face, growing bigger until she full out beams and he can't help himself.

He's smiling too.

Xxx

He feels the tension between them slowly ebbing away in the next few days, and he guesses he should have expected it. She just has a way of getting to him, of wedging herself straight smack dab into the middle of his heart when he's not being careful. She packs his lunch every morning and it only took two days of silence before she begins each morning with a quick explanation of his meal and how his orange juice and sandwich are perfect complements of one another.

She cleans obsessively and he wonders if she's getting restless at the lack of things to do when he finds her reorganizing his kitchen utensils when he comes home from school.

"You missed a spot," he teases as he sets his bag on the kitchen counter, watching her wipe down his drawer.

"Oh," she says in disappointment, before proceeding to wipe it again. He shakes his head, grinning as he walks over to her to snatch the cloth away.

"Okay that's it," he says. "We need to get you out of here."

"Finn," she whines, standing on her tiptoes to reach out for it as he holds it high in the air. "I'm almost done."

"Rachel, seriously. Look at what you're doing."

She gives up, looking up at him with her hands folded across her chest, annoyed.

"The kitchen was already spotless when you cleaned it for the first time two days ago."

"But-"

"We're going out tonight," he announces. Her demeanor changes almost immediately.

"Out?" she repeats.

"With Lydia and Nate," he answers quickly at the hopeful look on her face. "She's been hounding me non-stop ever since she saw you the other day, so you know, I figure it's time to shut her up already."

"Oh," she says. "That sounds fun."

He knows she's disappointed. He's not really sure how he feels about that yet.

"Yeah, they're not the worst people to hang out with," he jokes instead. "We'll leave at eight, 'kay?"

He turns to head to his room.

"Where are we going?" she asks. He grins as he turns around to face her.

"I think you'll like it."

Xxx

"Rachel," he calls out, rolling his eyes. "They're already waiting."

"I'll be out in a minute," she yells from inside the room. He's forgotten that it usually takes her hours to get ready. He leans back against the couch with his eyes closed. He's a little exhausted. He wonders vaguely wonders why the school insists on holding their weekly staff meeting on Fridays after school. They're slow and mostly pointless, and almost always bore him to death. The last time anything remotely interesting happened during one of those things was when a student punched Ted Moffat in the face four months ago. The guy's a total pompous ass, and Finn could kind of see why a fifteen year old might want to punch the history teacher's face.

"I'm ready," she announces. He opens his eyes to her smiling face. She's curled her hair, and they fall in gentle waves over her face. He knows she's watching his every move, but his eyes move down her body of their own accord. The stretchy fabric hugs her curves, stopping a few inches above her knees, an unnecessary slit up the left side giving him a good few inches glimpse of more skin. The cut is low enough that his eyes can't seem to focus, but still high enough to be tasteful, and he hates that his eyes automatically zero in on that small birthmark she has in the middle of her chest. Flashes of lips against marred skin surfaces in his mind and he immediately looks away, avoiding her gaze.

She may have only one suitcase with her, but she packed quite the weapon with her dress. She knows exactly what she's doing to him, knowing exactly how good she looks in that little black dress.

"Let's go," he says nonchalantly, standing up and walking straight towards the door without a backward glance. He's glad it's cold enough outside that she couldn't possibly walk around out in the streets in that.

Xxx

He enters the bar first, Rachel trailing behind him as their quiet walk finally comes to an end. They had barely spoken the whole walk through, and he almost wishes that he had brought his car, but he gets the feeling that neither of them will be leaving this place tonight sober. It just feels like one of those nights. They're entitled to get drunk off their asses and just like, forget everything for one night. He spots Nate and Lydia, quietly speaking to one another, their heads close together, and when Nate spots them, waves from his spot at the entrance.

"C'mon," he tells her quietly, feeling her follow him even though he still hasn't turned around yet.

"You're late," Lydia informs him as she stands up from her booth to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you Captain Obvious," he teases. The bar is only half full, and at nine, it's still fairly early. Things don't start getting fun until at least ten thirty.

"Wow, Rachel, you look amazing," Lydia says as she looks behind him. He doesn't turn, but he knows she's taken off her coat, and it's a little hard trying not to shoot Nate a death glare as the older man glances behind him appreciatively.

"Thanks," Rachel answers. She sounds happy. Nate looks up at him, breaking into a knowing grin at the look on his face. He turns to Rachel.

"I'm Nate," he introduces himself, standing to extend his hand. "The husband," he continues, pointing to Lydia. He hears her laugh behind him as she holds out her hand to shake his, her bare arm grazing Finn's shoulder as she does.

"I'm Rachel," she answers. He barely looks at her as he waits for her to slide next to Lydia in the booth. He slides in next to her, careful not to sit too close. He ends up with an inch of his ass hanging in the air.

"Dude," Nate says, his tone filled with contained laughter. "Take off your coat."

Xxx

"And so," Rachel says boisterously as she giggles. She's always happy after five beers. "That was how I ended up sitting in a cab next to Zac Efron."

Nate has a look of perpetual amusement when he looks at Rachel, and Lydia's eyes are wide in excitement over her Broadway tales. His ears had perked up when she mentioned West Side Story, and he listened intently to the grueling process that goes into making a successful production, but he's had about enough of her run-ins with Hollywood's most eligible bachelors, and as Lydia squeals for like, the tenth time (who _is_ she, and what has she done to his relatively sane friend?), he rolls his eyes.

"Is he really as nice as everyone says?"

"Oh my God, he's a _sweetheart_. And so, _so_ hot."

"_God_," he mumbles, half annoyed and half amused. On one hand, she's slipping more and more into the Rachel he's known his whole life with each sip of her beer, but on the other, are there like, no female celebrities in New York or something? Or does she just happen to stumble into cutesy little anecdotes only with the male ones? "I'm so sick of that name."

Lydia rolls her eyes at him as Rachel gasps.

"He's just jealous," Lydia tells her conspiratorially and she giggles like a maniac.

"Good," Rachel says, smiling wide, and it has him blushing like a little school girl for reasons unknown to him.

"I'm _not_," he mumbles. In front of him, Nate snorts into his beers. He glares at the man, smirking when the drink goes up his nose and he chokes on it. Lydia thumps her husband cheerfully on the back and Finn grins. Obviously, she's had a little too much tonight too.

"I think it's time for a round of shots," Lydia says. "Who's with me?"

"I am!" Rachel cries, grinning like a fool. He's pretty sure that's a bad idea.

But Rachel is already shoving her tiny body against him, so he moves out of the booth, catching her hand as she stumbles out. She giggles like an idiot as she looks up at him, and it pulls a smile out of him despite himself as he shakes his head.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Don't be a killjoy Finn," Lydia tells him, snatching Rachel's hand away by the wrist as she drags the tiny girl behind her towards the bar. He turns to look at Nate, annoyed when all the man does is laugh.

"They're about to get totally wasted," he tells his friend wryly as he sits back down.

"Well," Nate starts, taking a sip of his beer. "I don't know about you, but I think one night of my beloved but high strung wife losing her inhibitions is a good thing."

"Yeah well, she's dragging Rachel with her too."

Nate laughs as he kicks Finn's foot under the table.

"What are you so afraid of anyway?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not afraid."

"No, seriously. What is it? Are you scared that she's going to lose it and kiss you or something?"

He rolls his eyes, but the back of his neck starts to burn, knowing exactly how probable it is for that to happen.

"Or are you afraid that you're gonna like that a little too much?"

His head snaps up and once again, the knowing look on Nate's face is the most annoying thing he has ever seen.

"That's it, isn't it? What's the deal with you guys anyway? I mean, I don't know much, but Lyds' told me a thing or two, which is about all I could listen to without my head exploding."

"It's complicated," he mutters, taking a long sip of his beer as his gaze stray towards Rachel, her face in a pout as she listens to Lydia talking. Natesnorts.

"Believe me. Nothing is ever as complicated as we make it out to be."

"Yeah, well, she's Rachel Berry."

"Yeah?"

"And I'm Finn Hudson."

"Glad you know your own name buddy."

"That makes things complicated."

"Wanna bet? How many years have you got?"

"What?" he asks, confused.

"_Years_. How many years do you have between you?"

He does a quick calculation in is head while Nate laughs at him.

"Thirteen years," he finally says. "We've been, well… _us_, for thirteen years."

"That's all? That's nothing."

"Yeah," Finn says sarcastically. "I'm sure it's nothing to you."

Natelooks at him meaningfully.

"You think thirteen years of on and off relationship is hard?" he asks quietly. "_Dude_. Try twenty. Try knowing the girl since you were both five and knowing you love her since you were like, old enough to jack off to her-"

"Inappropriate. And _so_ gross."

"Try that on for size," Nate continues, ignoring him as the guy waves for another pitcher of beer. He notices that they're running out of nuts. Nate's waiting expectantly for him to say something, and why does he care so much about this anyway?

"What's your point dude?" he asks. Nate shrugs, turning to watch Lydia and Rachel in amusement when his wife lets out an excited squeal that could be heard at the end of the room.

"So she just up and left you, huh?" Nate asks and he groans. This is the _last_ thing he wants to think about right now.

"Nate-"

"I bet that hurt. I bet you got _really_ pissed off. I bet you even swore off her for _life_. Right?"

"I'm not talking about this with you."

"I bet you're being stubborn and holding on to your damn pride or whatever, 'cause you know, you don't wanna be a _total_ schmuck, and that girl over there, that's all she does is turn you into one."

"I am so not listening to you right now."

"Know how I know all that?"

"'Cause you're a schmuck?"

"'Cause I'm a schmuck," Nate agrees, not even bothering to deny his words. "Dude, you think it was bad that she left you? Try having her leave you for some douche who thought he was like, fucking Kurt Cobain or something. Even worse, try just standing there while you watch her ruin her life with the motherfucking asshole. Try just hanging around while she has the freaking _kid_ that she was supposed to have with you, 'cause you know, you're soulmates and all that shit, with him. Yeah, I'll bet you won't wanna have _anything_ to do with her then. But," Nate sighs, chuckling as he leans back against his seat. "You know what the thing is about those kinda girls? The thing about _those_ girls is that, turning us into schmucks is like, their specialty or something."

"I know the feeling," Finn mutters. He hates that he's still listening, or the fact that he can empathize as much as he does. He knows the feeling all too well.

"I mean seriously. Just look at it this way. Yeah, they crush our hearts into dust right under those tiny heels of theirs before they feed them to the greyhounds. And sure, they drive us fucking _insane_ like, ninety nine percent of the time. I mean, who the hell really gives a flying fuck if the toilet seat stays up or down? But, I don't know. It all just comes down to one monumental question."

"What's that, Dr. Love?" Finn asks dryly. He's still listening though. Nate shrugs, smiling at him.

"Can you honestly sit there, and really, really swear to God mean it, when you say that you're happier without her?"

He doesn't say a word as he downs the rest of his beer in one gulp.

"Thought so," Natesays knowingly. "See, Hudson, I know I'm a schmuck. I totally admit it. I'm so much of a schmuck, I even love that little kid the Kurt Cobain wannabe left her with like he's _my_ kid. Hell, he _is_ mine. God knows he's more like me than his mother. I'm so much of a schmuck that it didn't even take all that much for me take her back and marry her. But you know what that makes me though?"

"What?"

"One hell of a happy schmuck."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Regardless of what you might believe, I am neither partial nor impartial to Zac Efron. LOL. Review = love people, it is love... ;P**


	10. inevitability

**A/N: One epilogue left, and we're done. This is quite possibly my favorite chapter of this story, so I hope you like it! Ratings are up, in case you didn't notice. Also, I suggest reading my one-shot called All We Are, because this story essentially originated from that one, and the answers to some of the questions that might rise from this chapter can be found there =)  
><strong>

* * *

><p>She's leaning against him, clapping her hands enthusiastically for Rosie, the resident hippie singer-songwriter as she takes a bow.<p>

"You didn't tell me this was a karaoke bar," she yells into his ear. He winces, glaring at Nate who merely chuckles in amusement while tending to an obviously inebriated Lydia. Rachel is speaking right into his ear. Loudly, because by this point he's pretty sure she's lost the control of her volume. He turns to her, trying to push her away slightly, but she's already leaning up and they're so close, their noses are touching.

He feels his heart skip a beat as her smoky eyes bore into his for a second, before they crinkle due to the huge beam on her face. She rubs her nose against his, giggling. She's so _drunk_.

"I told you, you were gonna like it," he tells her. He doesn't mention that he never misses karaoke night at Dylan's, except for last week, when he was in no right state for any sort of singing, or the fact that he's been the reigning champion for close to three months now, because she's probably too drunk to listen, and they're not supposed to share all this anyway. He's supposed to still be mad at her, isn't he? She nods her head, blinking up at him attentively and he barely notices Nate leaving the table, because he hasn't been this close to her in what feels like years.

A schmuck, that's what he is. A hopeless, pathetic _schmuck_, because when she's close to him like this, it just becomes so easy for him to forget everything, all the pain and the hurt that he's been carrying with him for the past year vanishing with each blink of her eyes.

"Finn," she murmurs, and for a second her eyes clear up, and she's Rachel and he's Finn, and there's barely an inch of space between them, and it's closing slowly.

"Ladies and gentleman!" Dylan's voice booms from the makeshift stage, startling them both apart. "A little bird told me that we have the Champion in the house tonight!"

He groans and Rachel looks around them in confusion.

"Finn Hudson, where are you hiding out bro?"

"Finn, they're calling you!" she exclaims, turning to him with wide eyes.

"Yeah," he mumbles, sending death glares at an amused Nate who's standing just by the stage. What is this guy's problem tonight, really?

"He's here!"

"_Rachel_!" he hisses, pulling her down when she jumps out to scream his whereabouts.

She turns to him with a bright beam while he turns red with embarrassment when everyone in the room looks at him.

"They're looking for you!" she tells him, stumbling out of the booth and attempting to drag him with her. From her seat, Lydia stirs, grinning drunkenly at them.

"Go kick ass Finn! You need to take your title back from Bob Marley Anton!"

"Hold up. Bob Marley Anton won last week's karaoke?" So that's why the dude's been giving him the stink eye all evening. But Lydia ignores this, going back to her pseudo-coma and he shakes his head.

"I'm going, I'm going," he says with a slight laugh when Rachel pushes against his arm. He sighs, waving off the catcalls in good nature as he walks to the stage, grinning bashfully. He hadn't planned on singing tonight. He thought she would, to be honest, but she's obviously had a little too much to drink by now, judging from the loud whistle that just came from her direction.

"Ah there you are," Dylan, a burly man in his late fifties, who's always in a leather jacket, pulls him up by the hand, but not before he has a chance to glare at Nate.

"Don't screw this up, Schmuck," Nate tells him with a wink before he makes his way back towards their table.

What is _that_ supposed to mean?

The spotlight is thrust on him, and he stands on stage, slightly agape and completely unprepared. He doesn't even have a song planned. Damn Nate. He blinks a couple of times, before the blank expression gives way to an easy smile.

"Well," he says into the mic. "So much for a quiet night tonight."

The audience laughs and he relaxes, seeing the familiar faces looking up at him expectantly. Except for Bob Marley Anton, who's still giving him the stink eye. His eyes fall onto her. She's sitting on her knees at their booth, her hands gripping the back of her seat as she stares at him in excitement. He sees her leaning over to Nate for a moment, saying something that causes the man to lean his head back and guffaw, pulling his sleeping wife closer to him. But Finn barely notices, because all he sees is Rachel, and the realization that the last time he sang in front of her, their whole life had changed.

_"Can you honestly sit there, and really, really swear to God mean it, when you say that you're happier without her?"_

He can't. He really, honestly can't, and the thought of that pisses him off to no end, because he's so tired of this- this unavoidable _regression_ back into her. And if she breaks his heart again this time, he knows there's no going back for them. Ever. That scares him more than anything else. She's beaming up at him, and when he catches her eyes, her smile falters just a little, until she realizes that he's not looking away. Maybe somewhere in that alcohol-filled brain, she sees the conflict in his eyes because hers grew serious as she stares at him intently. He shakes his head, realizing where he is and the fact that he needs to sing… something. He turns towards the band waiting for him.

"Hey Keith," he says to the old man holding an acoustic guitar. Keith was a whiz, but for this, he'd rather go in it alone. "Mind if I borrow your guitar for a while?"

Keith shakes his head, pushing his thick glasses up his face before he hands his guitar over.

"Thanks buddy."

He turns back to the crowd, smiling as he straps it over him.

"I guess we could go a little acoustic tonight? I mean, you gotta know, this is totally coming out of my ass right now," he jokes as he sits on the stool in the middle of the stage. The band steps off, probably for a cigarette break, and now it's just him, alone with the guitar. He hesitates for just a second before he starts to strum, the familiar chords relaxing him as he takes a deep breath. He looks up to see her looking right at him again, and he misses his cue. He sends a self-deprecating smile out to the audience as he starts again. He looks away from her.

_A lovestruck Romeo, sings the streets a serenade  
>Laying everybody low with a love song that he made<br>Finds a streetlight, steps out of the shade  
>Says something like, "You and me, babe, how about it?"<em>

He sings the song low, his voice coming out in a quiet stream, before he looks up at the last verse, winking as the audience laughs while the song picks up.

_Juliet says, "Hey, it's Romeo, you nearly gave me a heart attack"  
>He's underneath the window, she's singing<br>"Hey, la, my boyfriend's back"_

The pitch of his voice increases at the last verse, and he bats his eyelashes for full effect, grinning when the crowd laughs. His eye catches her, and he sees that she's not laughing. She's just sitting there, entranced, as he sobers up immediately.

_You shouldn't come around here, singing up at people like that  
>Anyway what you gonna do about it?<em>

His strums get louder as he works his way into the chorus, closing his eyes as he sings his heart out.

_Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start  
>And I bet, and you <em>_**exploded**__ in my heart  
>And I forget, I forget the movie song<br>When you gonna realize, it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?_

She's watching him carefully, and he tries to ignore her as he sings the next verse, the cynicism creeping into his words before he even realizes it.

_Come up on different streets, they both were streets of shame  
>Both dirty, both mean, yes and the dream was just the same<br>And I dreamed your dream for you and now your dream is real  
>How can you look at me, as if I was just another one of your deals?<em>

His eyes stray to her unwittingly, and they can't look away from them as he pours out his frustration into words, watching the troubled look on her face.

_Well, you can fall for chains of silver, you can fall for chains of gold  
>You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold<br>You promised me everything, you promised me thick and thin  
>Now you just say, "Oh, Romeo, yeah, you know<br>I used to have a scene with him"_

_Juliet, when we made love, you used to cry_

Flashes of memories come back to him, things he's done trying to forget, like the softness of her skin, or the warm look in her eyes that night. He remembers her gasps and her moans and his lips against her skin, kissing away the trail of tears running down her face. He remembers that night, and it doesn't hurt anymore.

_You said, "I love you like the stars above, "I love you till I die"  
>There's a place for us, you know the movie song<br>When you gonna realize, it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?_

He reaches the bridge, as his strums slows down until its barely there, his voice growing softer as he looks her in the eye, the crowd and the bar falling away from them, until it's just her and it's just him, and the final barrier between them that's disintegrating with every word.

_I can't do the talk like the talk on the TV  
>And I can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be<br>I can't do everything but I'd do anything for you  
>Can't do anything except be in love with you<em>

"_And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be,"_ he half whispers into the mic, looking back down at the guitar in his hands, his fingers moving over the strings on auto pilot mode. "_All I do is keep the beat, the bad company. And all I do is kiss you, through the bars of a rhyme."_

He looks back up through half-lidded eyes, and there's a small smile that's starting to grow on her face, and it's growing on his too, his last defence broken.

_Juliet, I'd do the stars with you, any time_

Xxx

So he was wrong. He didn't get drunk off his ass tonight. She kind of did though, _is_, really. She giggles, and her warm breath teases the skin on his neck, goosebumps growing all along his arms as his hand clamps her legs tighter around him.

She lost her shoes. Ten minutes after leaving the bar, she realized this when she stepped on a sharp pebble, and he really wasn't in the mood to go back there. They settled on a piggyback ride, because she refused to walk. The walk home since then is quiet, and his heart is at war, alternating between furiously beating against his chest and expanding quietly with every breath against his skin.

"You won Finn," she mumbles into his neck.

"Yep."

"You're a champion."

"At karaoke."

"At _everything_."

He rolls his eyes as she exclaims this, throwing back her head, her bare legs flexing against his hands with the movement.

"You're _my_ champion."

"Rachel," he mutters with a sigh.

"You are," she whispers, leaning her forehead against the back of his head. "You always have been."

He says nothing to this, or to the way her legs and arms tighten around him. He's almost painfully aware of how short her dress is, and the way her entire body clings to him.

"Finn?"

"Hmm."

"What happened to us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean- I mean we were perfect, weren't we? We loved each other so much, and we- and I, I've never stopped loving you. Why did we do it? That first time?"

"Because we were both idiots," he mumbles, remembering twenty and the year-long heartache that followed.

"Would you change it? If you could?"

He thinks about this as he walks, about what it would be like if he hadn't let her walk away all those years ago, what would change? Slowly, he shakes his head.

"No." She stiffens in his arms. "We needed to- we needed to grow Rach. To find ourselves, I guess."

"We could have done that together," she argues.

"We could. But we didn't, and- and here we are."

"Here we are," she repeats quietly. They fall into silence again. The walk home feels so long.

"I'm sorry," she whispers suddenly. This time, he stiffens.

"Rachel-"

"I bailed on you. Because- because I was terrified. I just- you know why I was so scared?" she asks him nervously.

"Why?" he murmurs.

"Because we fell asleep, and when I woke up, and you were next to me, it felt perfect."

He frowns.

"That makes no sense."

"I felt- it felt like I could just stay that way for the rest of my life Finn. Like nothing else mattered, like I could just stay with you and be happy for the rest of my life. _Really_ happy. And it scared me, because- because-"

"You thought you'd forget your dream?" he asks, catching on. He feels the anger threatening to burst out of him, but he holds her legs tighter instead. "Forget Broadway? You really think I'd let you do that?"

"I was an idiot," she whispers. "I didn't think it was possible to have it all. It never was before. And I hurt you, and I could never forgive myself for that."

It's hard to say something, hard to say anything right now.

"I broke my promise," she whispers.

"What promise?"

"That I'd never let you feel alone."

"Rachel-"

"I promised you that," she says in distress, pulling against his hands to slide down his back. They're in the middle of the street, it's in the middle of the night, and she's still a little drunk, but she stands in front of him, her arms open wide as she looks at him earnestly. "I promised you'd never feel alone as long as I was around. I promised I'd always be there for you."

He knows what she's talking about, his father's birthday and the promise she made him years ago, when they were both still so young. He'd be lying if he says that he didn't hold her to that promise. He remembers the last time, sitting in front of his old man's grave alone as he kept wishing for her to appear. She never did, and he moved out to San Diego soon after, looking for change, looking for a way to escape her.

But he never could do that, because she'll find him eventually. She found him now.

"You know what I did that day?" she says, chuckling humorlessly as she looks up at him. "I spent the entire day in Central Park, feeding the ducks while talking to your father about what a horrible person I am. Yes, _your_ father. Or at least, what he looks like in my mind. You probably hate me for that," she says sadly. "I don't blame you if you do."

"Kurt told me you were on a date," he says, remembering that throbbing pain in his chest when he heard that.

"I lied," she whispers. "I didn't know what to say to you. I didn't- I didn't know how to handle- you."

He stares at her, overwhelmed by the revelation. She didn't know how to handle him? Doesn't she know that he's never learned how to handle _her_? He steps a little closer to her, his heart threatening to burst his chest open, threatening to leap right into her hands. Her eyes are wide now as he stands close enough that their feet are touching.

"I could never hate you Rachel," he murmurs. "Believe me, I tried."

He sees the relief coloring her eyes before the tears spring out, and she closes her eyes when his thumb reaches out to brush them away.

"Good," she whispers unevenly. "Because I hated me enough for the both of us."

"Stop that," he whispers. "You just- we just needed to grow."

"To change?"

"Yeah," he says, and she leans closer. Tentatively, she reaches out to touch his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt as he looms over her. She looks up at him through her lashes, the hope on her face unmistakable.

"Have you changed enough?"

"Just about," he mumbles, leaning closer to finally, _finally_, close the distance between them. Her eyes flutter close just seconds before their lips meet, and she sighs into the kiss, pressing herself against him as he pulls her up, wrapping both his arms tightly around her as she boldly deepens their kiss. Her hands move from his chest upwards, to cling herself around his neck and he can barely breathe, the familiarity of this action overwhelming him as he feels a peculiar sense of belonging, of coming home.

They pull away together, both breathing harshly, his arms keeping her trapped against him.

"Finn," she whispers when he leans his forehead against hers. She reaches up just a little to brush her lips against his. "Take me home."

"You're crying," he mumbles, his lips trailing up to the corners of her eyes. She trembles in his arms and he pulls her closer, his heart threatening to overflow with all of his feelings, with all of his love.

"I'm happy," she whispers, smiling into his kiss, her arms still clung around his neck.

"You're drunk," he whispers, almost affectionately, and it would have scared him, how easy it is to feel this much for her when he's spent an entire year trying to forget this. But he's done being scared.

He's a schmuck. He'll embrace it.

She looks up at him, and there's a twinkle in her eye as she leans up, her mouth close to his ear.

"I'm not that drunk."

Xxx

He watches as she closes the door behind them, standing so close to her that he's pressing himself against her back. She moans when he presses his lips at the nape of her neck, his hands reaching out to steady her hips as he pushes her into the door.

"Finn," she mumbles, leaning her head back to give him better access, her hands coming up to rest in his hair.

"I missed you," he mumbles against her skin, one hand reaching down to the edge of her skirt, pulling the fabric up with him as his fingers leave a hot trail up her thighs. "I missed you so much, I just never, ever wanted to admit that."

"I missed you too," she whispers urgently, gasping when his fingers move further upward, brushing against the heat between her legs. He moves it away, leaning back so she could turn around, and the slow burn in her eyes is threatening to incinerate him as she pushes herself closer, her fingers nimbly pushing his jacket off his body before they move on to the buttons of his shirt. He pauses for a moment at the familiarly determined look on her face.

"What?" she asks when she notices.

"Nothing," he says, grinning as he shakes his head. She frowns, ignoring him as the final button comes undone and she's pulling his shirt out of his pants.

"Somebody's impatient," he whispers teasingly.

"It's been a while." She says these words slowly, and he sobers up, want and need filling up his every being as he pulls her towards him, kissing her roughly, his hands moving down towards the edge of her skirt again.

"Take it off," she whispers against his open mouth. "Please."

"Turn around." She turns obediently, using a hand to pull the bulk of her hair to her front. He stares at the expanse of her back for a second before his fingers tug against the zipper of her dress, slowly unravelling her. His lips latches on to her neck, sucking the skin into his mouth as his hands reach up to pull the straps of her dress down until she's down to her panties, her dress pooling at their feet. She moans his name again, and if he was turned on before, the way she turns around and presses her bare chest against him is making him impossibly hard. He groans when her hands trail over him against his jeans.

"I want you so much," she whispers and he nods, the words caught in his throat when his fingers trail up her stomach, tracing over her collarbone down to the small valley between her breasts. He moves to the left, his entire palm splaying out against skin before he cups her, his thumb grazing softly against her nipple.

"Finn," she breathes out, pushing herself up towards him. He moans when her fingers play with the waistband of his jeans. They're in the middle of his living room in the dark, and he can barely see where he's going as he tries to move them back, but she stops him, her hand coming up to push his hand insistently against her breast. In the glow of the street lamp outside, he sees her shaking her head.

"Here," she tells him, slowly pulling her down with him. He places his hand carefully behind her head as she lays back, his heart beating furiously as he looks down at her.

"It's cold here," he murmurs, as he lays over her, pushing her legs apart with his to rest between them. She smiles up at him, shaking her head.

"I don't care."

"I- I don't have a condom on me right now."

"I really, really don't care Finn."

He nods, leaning down to kiss her again, his lips blazing a trail from her lips down to her neck, stopping at her breasts again, as he takes a nipple into his mouth. She arches up towards him when his teeth graze against the nub, her fingers frantically unbuttoning his jeans as she uses her legs to push his pants down. His fingers move down her chest, past her bellybutton, tracing the spot where he knows her tattoo is, pressing his thumb momentarily into her skin when he feels her stomach cave in. They reach the edge of her panties, slipping past them towards the soft curls waiting there. They hover just above her for a second, when she pulls his head up from her chest to kiss him furiously, before finally reaching their destination, palming her as she writhes against him.

Her hands are nimble as they push against his boxers. They're breathing hard against their open mouths when her small fingers wrap around him and one long digit enters her, the tightness around him and the way she's moving her hand making him see spots as he grits his teeth. He pushes another finger into her and she's keening, arching her body up into his when he curls them, their mouths fused together in a mess of tongues and teeth and lips.

"Now," she whispers. "_Nownownow_, please Finn I-"

She gasps when he tears the fabric clean off her, entering her in one swift motion, groaning as he sinks into her, the muscles on his back straining from trying not to crush her. Her head hits the floor with a soft thud, and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down to rest against her as they both stop moving, reveling in the feel of him inside her.

"I love you," she whispers against his ear. "I love you so much."

He doesn't say anything but his hand moves to her left thigh, his fingers digging into her as he pushes it down, opening her up to him, entering her further before he pulls out to slam in again.

"_God_," he breathes out when she moans against him, her fingers raking down his back as he repeats his motions. "I forgot what this feels like."

She mutters incoherently into his neck, her teeth clamping down against skin when his hand moves between them, moving down towards her in the way that he remembers. It doesn't last very long, and he's not sure if it's just because it has been _so_ long, but his thumb and forefinger pinches just the right way and she grows quiet, biting down on his shoulder hard as she comes, clenching around him, overtaking him, ripping through his entire body until all he sees are stars, an entire galaxy of them, and all he feels is Rachel, around him, inside him, everywhere.

The feeling succumbs the both of them as he breathes harshly against her ear, coming down from his high while she trembles beneath him.

"Wow," he breathes, pulling out of her slowly. The awe turns into soft laughter as he gathers her close to him. "That was-"

"Perfect," she whispers as he turns on his back and pulls her on top of him. Their legs are tangled, slick bodies stuck together, when she leans up to kiss him. "That was perfect".

She deepens their kiss, chuckling when she feels him stirring against her.

"Somebody's eager," she whispers playfully into his ear before she kisses him there, grinding her body down on him. He groans, tightening his arm around her.

"It's been a long time," he growls, gripping her hips to stop her movements before he turns them back again, one hand curved protectively behind her head when it hits the floor. Ignoring her giggles, he leans back down, smiling into their kiss.

Xxx

He watches her as she sleeps, her body still splayed over his, her arm thrown carelessly over his chest.

She's snoring softly, a small trail of drool leaving her lips, and he grins.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time, this carefree, light feeling that stops his stomach from curling and erases that constant press on his chest.

Slowly, he moves to sit up, gathering her up in his arms gently, trying not to jostle her while he stands. She mumbles incoherently, but stays asleep, burrowing further into his arms as he makes his way to the bedroom.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time.

It's been a while since he's been home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And thus, my smut cherry has officially popped. Please review, because I've never written anything like this before, so I really want to know what you think.  
><strong>

**Lyrics to Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, as sung by The Killers**


	11. Epilogue

**A/N: If anybody is interested in the soundtrack that accompanies this story, please check out tiltingaxis(.)tumblr(.)com / post / 24792906223 for the playlist =)**

* * *

><p>She feels the heat of the sun on her face and frowns, turning her head into the pillow to get away from it. The scent that permeates causes an unwitting smile to grow on her face. It smells like Finn.<p>

_Finn_.

All at once, her eyes blear open and she sits up, pulling the sheets up with her as she looks around. He's nowhere to be seen.

"Finn?"

She feels the palpitations start when he doesn't answer her call, getting off the bed quickly as she puts on the first thing in her path, the shirt he wore from last night. It still smells like him. Everything smells like him, even her. She walks slowly towards the door, taking a deep breath before she opens it. He's probably outside, right? He didn't leave.

Right?

"Finn?" she calls out again, the panic reaching overdrive by now when she finds that he's not in the living room or the kitchen. She doesn't hear the water running, and the bathroom door is open.

He's nowhere in the apartment.

So her worst fear has come true. He's gone. He left, just like she did. She stands in the middle of his living room, her fingers scrunching up his wrinkled shirt unwittingly, right over where her heart is.

He left.

It starts with a quiet sniffle when she feels that stabbing pain right in the middle of her chest, and as it grows into a more acute, almost stifling tension pressing against her heart, her tears fall more rapidly until she's on the precipice of a full out sob, turning to face the open bedroom. She can see the bed from where she is, and the rumpled sheets, and she barely remembers him carrying her to it. All she remembers is the feeling of being safe in his arms, of being home. She thought he felt it too. But he never did say it, did he? He never said, "I love you". That was all her.

This whole ordeal, this whole month really, it was all her. Maybe he just wanted her to know what it felt like, maybe this is what she deserves-

"Rachel?"

She turns around abruptly, mid hiccup, her tears blurring his outline as he stands in the doorway. She lets out another choked sob at the sight of him, and he's standing in front of her in five long strides.

"What happened?" he asks softly. Now that he's closer, she sees the worry in his eyes, the slight scruff on his face, and those freckles she has spent half her life memorizing. One giant palm curves over her shoulder comfortingly, and it calms her enough to find her bearings.

"I thought you left," she whispers, once she's breathing again. He looks confused.

"Yeah. I mean, I went back to the bar for these." He holds up his hand, her heels dangling off two fingers. She stares at them, mouth agape.

"You-" she starts. She looks out the window before she turns back to him. "What time did you leave? I mean, what time is it?"

"It's almost eight. Actually, I thought I'd wake you up and we could go out for breakfast, since you know, it's a great day outside. I thought I'd let you sleep in a little, but I know you'd rather start your day early. Rach?" he says when she continues to stare at him. His confused expression changes into an amused smile. "You okay?"

"You didn't say it," she blurts out, her hands tugging at the bottom the shirt she's wearing, trying to pull it down.

"Say what?" he asks, bewildered.

"That you love me. I- I thought you left. And- and you didn't say it, and I just- I though I was fooling myself. And you were just, I don't know. You were just-

"Rachel," he cuts in firmly as he drops her shoes to the floor, his fingers reaching out to curl around the collar of her shirt, slowly tugging her forward until their bodies are moulded together. She stares up, eyes wide as he leans down, determination coloring his eyes, his lips curving upwards into the most achingly familiar of smiles. She closes her eyes when he's inches away, and her arms wind around his waist of their own accord, pulling him closer until his lips are on hers.

"I love you," he whispers, chuckling when she sighs in relief.

"Is this really happening?" she whispers back against his lips, leaning against him. "Us here, together. This is real?"

"It's real."

"Good."

Xxx

"Where are you?"

"I'm coming," she tells him quickly, dodging the crowd as she moves deftly around all the people, walking up the steps of the school. "Sorry baby, the flight got delayed, and there was a problem with the weather, so the pilot couldn't land properly. Are they up yet?"

"Not yet," he tells her. "They're going on last."

"You sound nervous."

"I am."

"Don't be. They're going to be amazing. They have _you_ as their teacher don't they?"

"That's not the most reassuring thing I've ever heard," he says nervously.

"Finn," she says firmly, a little out of breath. "They're going to kill their performance. I've seen videos of their rehearsals remember? You worked them to the bone for this concert. And don't sell yourself short. Those kids love you because you're a great teacher."

"I know," he sighs. "I mean, I hope so. They've been acting kinda funny lately around me, ever since, you know."

"Oh." She can't deny the fact that she still feels guilty.

"Crap. They're starting soon. Where are you?"

"Sweetie, I'm entering the auditorium as we speak. I'll try to find a seat closest to the stage, okay? Break a leg, Finn."

"I love you," he tells her in a rushed voice before he hangs up.

She enters the auditorium to find his kids lined up on stage and smiles to herself. They look _good_. Patrick stands right in the middle, and as Rachel makes her way down the aisle, he looks up, smiling at the crowd before coming forward to grab the microphone off its stand.

"Hi guys," he says as she slides into an empty seat three rows from the front. She looks up, amused at the wide smile on his face. She didn't know there was going to be an introduction. "So like, this is totally spontaneous and whatever, but before we perform, we all kinda agreed that we wanted to say something. Well, that _I_ should say something on behalf of us all."

She hides a smile, craning her neck to see if Finn is standing anywhere near the stage. She can't see him, but he's probably a nervous wreck by now. She takes out her phone to send him a quick text.

(Breathe)

It doesn't take him long to reply.

(I'm trying to)

She laughs, looking up to pay her attention back to Patrick.

"Anyway, you should know that our teacher, Mr. H is bailing on us. Like, this is gonna be our last big concert with him, 'cause he's gonna take off to new York. And that totally sucks, 'cause Mr. H is kinda, almost cool. You know, like in a teacher kinda way? But yeah, he's totally bailing on us to go get married and play house with his fiancé. Oh hey, there she is. Hey Mrs H-to-be!"

She waves back awkwardly to the young boy, shrinking into her seat a little as she feels all eyes gravitating towards her.

"But it's kind of okay, 'cause Miss Berry is pretty cool too, and she's like a Broadway star and all that, so we totally get it, why he'd have to move and all that. And um- wow. I really should have written this down somewhere. Basically, we just, all of us," he says, gesturing to the rest of his classmates behind him. He turns towards the left of the stage, grinning.

"We just wanna say thank you, Mr. H. For teaching us the difference between epic old people music and crappy old people music, and for being totally chill when some of us couldn't work our instruments that well. And also, you know, for being an awesome teacher."

He turns back towards the audience as she discreetly wipes a tear away, because that was beautiful, and she couldn't be prouder of Finn than she is right now.

"I know you did a totally cool, 'modern' mash-up, and that's totally great. But we kinda came up with something else for you, and you too Miss Berry," Patrick says as an afterthought as his glance darts back towards her. She holds her hands up to her chest as a gesture of gratitude and she sees Patick's smile, along with the rest of Finn's class widening. She doesn't know if they're happy because she's touched by their gesture, or because her mascara is running down her face because of Patrick's speech.

"It's totally old school, even more than you Mr. H."

She laughs, along with the rest of the audience, impressed by the jab he managed to inject into the otherwise touching speech. The music starts, and Patrick moves back into position, as the group begins to sway along.

She claps loudly when the song begins, and she doesn't stop until it ends as the kids arranged their very own mash-up of The Beach Boys' Wouldn't it be Nice and The Turtles' So Happy Together. Their performance is a hit, and as it reaches the end, she lets out the loudest whistle that she could muster. She watches as Kimberley and Sara runs off the stage, returning with a reluctant Finn and she whistles again, clapping along with the rest of the audience.

She can't see him, he's buried in the middle of the rest of his class in a massive group hug, but she can see him clearly in her mind, and he's probably trying hard not to cry right now. Finn's always been a little on the sentimental side (not as bad as her, obviously). He's her gentle giant, and she loves him for it.

She looks down at the ring resting on her finger. It felt like it was just yesterday that she had packed her bags and went on her one woman mission to get him back. It's funny how easily things fall into place once they both just moved past their insecurities and just admit how they felt.

She smiles to herself, looking to see him standing on the stage, one arm around Patrick, his eyes searching, looking for her.

Their gazes meet, and the beam on his face is blinding.

She mouths an "I love you" even though he probably can't see it, but he's sending her a small wave, and so she waves back.

"Congratulations." She turns to her right in surprise to find a middle aged woman smiling warmly at her. "On your impending nuptials."

"Thank you," she murmurs, grinning.

"Looks like you made quite a catch with that one," the woman continues, her eyes straying towards the stage.

"I really did," Rachel agrees, laughing as the emcee finally ushers Finn and his kids off the stage to close the school concert. He stops right before disappearing behind the curtain. Turning in her direction, he puts two fingers up to his lips, before he points them towards her, grinning.

Everything is falling into place. They're falling back to the way they were always meant to be, back with each other.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Finally, this story is complete. Thanks for reading folks, hope you enjoyed the ride =)**


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